Resistance The 24th Hunger Games
by laptop246
Summary: Lystra Fay Gull has been thinking rebellious thoughts for a long time. When she finally does something stupid, she is put into the Games as punishment. When Lystra hears that some tributes are teaming up, and are going to refuse to kill each other, she is immedietly excited. Can she survive and get home to her father?Or, is the Capitol planning some special, gruesome death for her?
1. Prologue

_**Thank you to all of the people who submitted tributes. It really means a lot, and I am sorry that many of you must die. Although this chapter (well, prologue) is about Lystra, I don't know if she is going to win yet. I haven't decided yet.**_

_*****I do not own the Hunger Games.*****_

If you live in District 11 around the time of the 25th Hunger Games, and are starving, there is a way to get you food.

Get your day's meat that you earn from working in the fields. Find a Owen Hopkins. Show him your meat – don't speak, because the district's bugged. He'll take your meat and give you a pair of night glasses.

Go hungry that day. Be careful, hide your glasses; act normally. Ignore your growling stomach – you'll have food soon. Eat half of the next day's meat. Save the other half. Sign up for as much tesserae as you are able to – you'll need it.

That night, take the rest of your meat and go to the fields. A man guards the entrance at night – a peacekeeper. Show him your meat, and he'll take it. He'll pretend not to see as you enter. Open the gate – it's not electrical, and it's never locked.

Here in front of you is food. Field upon field goes on for as far as you can see. Be careful; be quiet. Walk to the back of the fields. Keep your eyes out for peacekeepers – they patrol the inside of the fence, and they have weapons. Don't trample the plants. You're not supposed to be here, remember? All right, make your way to the apple trees. Further down the row . . . further! Stop. Now go two rows over. Yes, there! At the Granny Smith trees. Yes, yes, I know you're hungry. I know they look so beautiful and delicious.

All right. Eat.

Go ahead. There's one right there – on that branch. That's it. Just a little bit farther . . .

There.

Now bite into it . . . taste the delicious juices that flood into your mouth, satisfying your hunger. You probably hear something whizzing through the air, making a clean sound, right about now . . .

You're dead.

Or, at least, you're as good as dead.

The reason?

There's a girl in a tree – she thought that you were a peacekeeper. She won't come down to check on you. You're new here. She's been here for years.

She'll get her knife back later.

She smiles, a bit madly. She is a misunderstood girl – deep down, she feels bad . . . that is, if you were just starving, like her, she feels bad. But she's glad that you met the fate you did if you were a peacekeeper. She hates them.

In truth, she really did you a favor. Peacekeepers would have beat you to death in public, in front of your loved ones. It was a slow and painful death.

This is actually pretty painless . . . and private.

You've got to be thankful.

Her name is Lystra Fay Gull.

She has long, wavy, bright blonde hair, and bright green eyes that could pierce your soul, seeing all of your deepest secrets, regrets, sorrows, lies . . .

She trusts no one.

Not even her own father.

And she's about to change the world.


	2. Chapter 1

I only ever killed one person that wasn't a peacekeeper. It had been a foggy night, and the stupid man wore white, the color of the peacekeeper's outfits. He was loud, and clumsy like them too, which is odd for someone in District 11. I recognized my mistake almost immediately, and I gave him a quick death.

Merciful.

Peacekeepers die slow.

Besides, I was running a business off of what I managed to gather. I couldn't risk getting caught, now could I?

Staring at what promised to be an amazing sunrise, I remembered something I had tried very hard to forget :

Today was the day of the reaping.

Today 24 children – 1 male and 1 female from my own district – would be sent to play in a violent game known as the Hunger Games. They were forced to kill each other, and the last one standing was crowned the victor. Of course, it was possible for me to have been among them – my name would be in there extra times – 20, because I had signed up for tessera to feed me and my dad.

If I wasn't apart of them, I would get to sit by the television and watch it – every minute of it.

No one really watched if they could help it.

Why did the Capitol make us do this?

To remind us not to rebel again.

I signed and dropped danother Granny Smith apple into the basket on the ground below. A mockingjay trilled an octive, startled by the sudden sound. Another mockingjay takes up the tune, and another after that. In only a few moments, the mockingjay song echoes throughout the field. Taking advantage of the sudden noise, I jumped to the ground and picked up the basket, walking hurridly away from the fields.

Exiting the fields was a complicated matter – the gate squeaked when you opened it and you had to be sure that no peacekeepers heard it.

Because if they do, you're dead.

Or, at least, as good as dead.

But there was no problems that day, for there were no peacekeepers in sight, and the still strong song of the mockingjays covered the squeak.

The peacekeeper that guards the gate turned his back on me, aware that he couldn't turn me in after I'd given him meat, but not wanting to lie and say he's seen no one. I closed the gate behind me and truged off, carrying the basket. It was a larger load than normal today.

I placed the basket in my ususal alley. It was filled with trash – our compost heap. The peacekeepers stayed clear of it – they didn't like the smell. The whole district was bugged with voice recorders, so, as long as everyone is careful about what they say, I can easily sell my goods here.

My first customer is beside me in an instant – Isadora Remming, a short, skinny girl who was often underfed – a fate only too common.

I smiled at the 12-year-old girl "Hungry?" I asked. An innocent enough question, but Isadora looked hungrily at the apples and nodded.

"Didn't sleep well," she said casually, grabbing three apples. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question : how much?

"No one sleeps well on the eve of Reaping Day," I sighed, shrugging my shoulders "but surely you slept a little bit." This last sentence was me offering her to name the price.

"Oh, and hour or two . . . on and off . . . four times," Isadora grabbed another apple, raising an eyebrow again at me. I understood her meaning. She'd pay me a coin or two for each of the four apples.

"One and a half each time?" my tone was casual

She nodded immediately. "Yes, yes, that sounds about right." She fished out six coins from her pockets, and placed them in my palm. "See you in the square."

"See you in the square." I echoed absently.

My apples sold quickly. People paid with what they could. It was well known that I preferred coins, but I was reasonable. I gave the baker 3 apples for a loaf of bread, the seamstress seven for a new hat (my old one was getting small) and teacher Mary two for a few potatoes. I was dying to ask where she had gotten them, but I didn't dare.

I was only left with three when a small, dirty-faced orphan girl approached me, her even smaller brother trailing behind her. Seemingly nervous, she pointed at my basket. I nodded, extending my hands : What do you have?

She shakily began to sing. I could tell by the way she closed her eyes tight that she was making it up as she went – ambitious. She gripped her brother's hand so tightly her knuckles were white.

Feeling bad for this small orphan girl who wanted an apple for herself and her brother on Reaping Day, I gripped her shoulder and joined her in the song, making it up as I went.

'_Like the bird_

_Flying above the trees!_

_Like song_

_Free to do anything_

_Like the wind_

_Not contained by anything._

_One day, I shall escape_

_One day, I shall be free!_

_Free of this prison_

_Free from this cage_

_Free!_

_Free to fly!_

_Free to love!_

_Free to die ..._

_Freedom ..._

_Oh!_

_To be free,_

_To be free_

_I swear to you,_

_I swear it!_

_I shall break through these barriers one day_

_No matter what it takes_

_To break through the injustice_

_To reach the liberty!_

_Freedom!_

_Free!_

_Free to fly!_

_Free to love!_

_Free to die ..._

_Freedom ..._

_Oh!_

_To be free,_

_To be free!'_

The final note hung in the air. I stared at the girl, our eyes meeting. I can tell by what I see there that we are thinking the same thing.

Of freedom.

Of rebellion.

For someone in the Capitol was sure to be listening to a recording of our song at that moment . . . wondering what it meant. It was perfectly obvious to me – it was spitting of rebellion and trouble.

I have pretty much guaranteed one of us a spot in the Hunger Games – and the other the year after.

And a guaranteed bloody and gruesome death in the arena.

I stared at the girl. You could tell by the way she held her chin the she's a proud one, and if I try to look past the filth, she looked older. "12 years old?" I guessed

"13," she answered, staring into my eyes, asking : What have we done? I shrugged, not daring to answer.

"Sign up for tessera?" I asked instead.

"Yes," she said, putting an arm around her brother.

"Good girl," I handed her an apple "and your brother's name?" I referred to the ragged child behind her

"Issac," she ruffled her brother's hair fondly

"Issac," I knelt down to his level and met his ice-blue eyes. "It has been a pleasure." I handed him an apple. His eyes widened slightly, and he took the apple, clutching it to his chest protectively as though he thought that she would take it back.

"Thank you," he said. I wondered what the Capitol would make of this remark. I shrugged to myself. We'd already done enough damage for this small remark to be ignored.

I stood back up, taking the girl's hands, staring into her eyes. There is so much I wanted to say to her, but I can only squeeze her hand. She smiled at me and let go. She took her brother's hand and then they were gone.


	3. Chapter 2

The house was a rickety old place – it leaked a lot and was dark at night, and bright in the day. It wasn't much of a house – more like a small barn, but it was all that we had. So Dad and I made the best of it.

It wasn't so bad back when Mom was around. I remember that she'd always try to patch the holes with whatever we could, and the smell of baking food always filled the house, which helped a lot. She had been a seamstress and a washwoman, as well as working in the fields, and with that extra money, we had had some money for extra things – like a new dress or apron or table. And even in the winter, when there were no fields to harvest, she always found a way to keep us fed.

Now there was no smell of baking food. Now we went hungry.

I put my goods on my bed. It was a small, rickety old thing – like the house itself. But at least I had a bed. Dad slept on the floor.

I took the loaf of bread, and the remaining apple to the small, rickety old table, and got out a slightly rusted old knife. "Dad, wake up!" I called towards the closet he called his room "I got some breakfast!"

There was a slight groan, and the door opened. Dad stepped out – his bright blonde hair (like mine) tussled and dirty. His eyes had that hollow, empty look that I knew meant that he had been dreaming about Mom. He took the other chair opposite of me and looked at the loaf and the apple. He grunted his approval.

Dad and I don't talk much. We found that's easier. We never were that close – back when Mom was alive. But her death tore both of us apart. I know that she would have wanted us to be close . . . but it was just too difficult, because when I looked at him, I saw the lingering sorrow that so oppressed both of us, and when he looked at me, he saw her eyes.

So we didn't talk.

I cut off a few pieces of bread, and cut up the apple. Placing the slices onto the bread, I handed two to Dad. He wordlessly took it, taking a bite. I ate some of mine, and the silence continued. The house slowly began to light up as the sun rose higher.

Then Dad did something unusual. He spoke without being prompted.

"How many times?" those three words seemed to hold a lot of meaning – for both of us.

How many times was my name in the glass balls?

What were my chances?

"20." I answer, gazing into his eyes. He meets mine for a split second, then looks away, eyes brimming with tears.

The silence continues. I finish, and put the bread in a cabinet, along with the remaining apple pieces. When I looked back at the table, Dad is gone.

I sighed, thinking of Mom and how she always kept us together . . . and how we just didn't work without her. I grabbed a large metal bucket and fetched water from the stream. It was cold, but I poured it into the tub anyway.

I sat in the tub for a long time, even though the water was cold. We were supposed to look our best for the Reaping, as it was the start of the festivities of the Hunger Games. I thought of the Capitol for a long time, letting the suppressed anger build up inside of me. I knew that because of my song today, I probably won't be coming back to this house. I knew this, and came to accepted it.

I just hoped that they won't get the little girl next year.

When I got out, I put back on the clothes that I had on that morning. I knew that I had to have on nice clothes, but somehow, I wanted to delay putting them on. I sat on my bed, brushing my hair with the spidery hairbrush for a long time. It had been quite a while since I felt that clean.

"Lystra?" my dad's voice said from the other side of the door.

"Dad?"

"Can I come in?"

"Um . . . sure." This was odd of my father. He normally never came into my room. I looked around anxiously to make sure that there was nothing that I didn't want him to see.

He entered, and had something gold draped over his arm. He handed it to me, avoiding my eyes. Looking at it, surprised, I stood up, and spread it out on the bed. I let out a little gasp.

It was a golden gown, made of silk – a precious material. It went to the knees and had no sleeves. To go with it was a thin golden headband and simple golden flats. I stared at it for a long while, unaware that we had owned anything so fine.

"Will you wear it?"

It is obviously Mom's. It looks like it would fit me, though . . .

"Of course I will, Dad," my eyes were brimming over with tears from the gesture, however simple. This seemed to be too much for him, because he left after that.

I put on the dress, and left the room, going into the main room where our table is. Dad was sitting there, waiting for me. When he saw me, he gave an audible gasp. I see my reflection in his watery eyes, and I understand why.

I am not Lystra Fay Gull in this outfit.

I am my mother.


	4. Chapter 3

The suspense was the worst part. Standing with the others, muscles rigid, I found my hatred for the Games and the Capitol bubbling up inside of me, molten lava about to spill over the wall I'd made to keep it back.

The desire to do something – to stop the Games, kill the Capitol – broke over the wall and washed onto me. Clenching my fists slightly to control my anger, I looked at Emerald Grey, the Capitol lady that was in charge of the schedule and tour guide to the tributes. Her hair was bright silver, as were her eyes. She wore a silver gown. Simply looking at her could blind you.

"Why!" she was exclaiming to the mayor "what a bee-a-oooo-tiful day it is here in sweet-smelling, cheery District 11!" The mayor said something in reply, though he had a mind to keep his voice down.

I shook my head in distaste at Emerald. Were all of the Capitol people like her? All so silly and virtually defenseless? Yet they watched people – children battle each other to the death for their pleasure? Are they monsters able to destroy whatever comes across their path?

I shook my head again, trying to clear this from my mind. I was getting nowhere – chasing my tail like a dog. I stared at Emerald Grey for awhile, trying to imagine a Capital crowd of the people.

"Happy Hunger Games!" cried Emerald Grey, a huge, over-happy smile on her face "The merriest part of the year, it is my upmost joy to announce our very lucky tributes this year!" she paused as if expecting a cheer, but no one made a sound. A few people gave some half-hearted applause, me not included. Yes. _Happy_ Hunger Games . . . a _merry_ time . . . as if.

"I know you're all just as excited as I am!" _Fat chance . . . _"Good luck to all of the young ladies and gentlemen!" _Yes, good luck . . . that it's not me._ "Now, may the 24th Hunger Games begin!"

A trumpet fanfare played, designed to cover roars of glee and thunderous applause. All eyes were fixed on the glass balls in which were the slips of paper with all of the names on it. Everyone was praying silently for themselves and their loved ones. My own eyes strayed to the girl's ball. 20 of those slips of paper had Lystra Fay Gull written in careful writing . . .

"Ladies, ladies!" Emerald clapped her hands, her face a mask of excitement and suspence.

Watching Emerald, my stomach tightened. With a jolt, I remembered what I had decided : It would be me. I had already accepted it. But . . . I wasn't really accepting it anymore. Only one thought came to my mind:

_It is going to be me. It is going to be me. It is going to be me._

Emerald reached in and picked a slip. She turned, smiling at everyone's obvious tension.

_It is going to be me._

She unfolded the slip and I noticed gem-studded fingernails. How . . . disgusting.

_It is going to be me._

She moved her eyes across the paper, reading the name.

It was my name – it was going to be me.

She cleared her throat. "Please come forward, female tribute . . ."

My legs went wobbly. My stomach flexed. It was going to be me. I didn't want to leave! I didn't want to die!

Emerald waited dramatically, a huge smile fixed in place.

Me.

Me.

Me.

"Estella Mason!"

It took me a few moments to realize that the name she said was not 'Lystra Fay Gull,' but 'Estella Mason.' I let out a small sigh of relief, releasing the tension in my shoulders, and glanced toward the girl beside me.

She was looking around in confusion, like everyone else. No one knew an Estella Mason. I gazed around for Estella, and my heart beat again.

"Estella Mason?" Emerald sounded very confused, and shocked. "Estella?"

A figure stepped out of the crowd. I craned my neck unsuccessfully to see it. I can make out a small figure, but nothing else.

"You are Estella?" Emerald sounded relieved to have cleared this "little mess" as she would say, up. "Estella Mason?"

"Y-yes," the wobbly voice is unrecognizable, but it rights itself. "I am Estella Mason."

With a jolt, I realized that I recognized the voice. My heart stopped once more, my blood running cold. I shook my head in denial as the trembling girl climbed up to stand by Emerald. They shook hands, and the girl that no one knew turned to face us.

It's the girl I sang with by the compost heap.


	5. Chapter 4

"Any volunteers?" Emerald asked good-naturedly "Anyone wnt to steal this young woman's glory?" Estella looked so small and frightened, her face still dirty. She met my eyes – she was trying to tell me something . . . but what?

"No volunteers?" Emerald asks. She seemed slightly disappointed. "All right then! Boys, boys!"

Emerald began to walk towards the boy's ball, but something happened that surprised everyone – even me.

I stepped forward.

"I volunteer!" I called, meeting Estella's eyes. In them flashed shock, gratitude, and horror. 'No' she mouthed. I shook my head at her. I had to do this. My mind was already made up. I climbed up beside her and took her hand.

"What's your name?" Emerald Grey looked slightly surprised, and maybe even a little bit annoyed, but her tone was normal.

"Lystra Fay Gull," I told her shortly. Emerald smiled at me, and took the hand that Estella wasn't holding.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your female tribute, Lystra Fay Gull!" she raised my hand.

No one pretended to applaud. Their shock was obvious as they gazed at me. They all knew me – the girl with the apples. Several, such as Isadora Remming were hiding their faces in their hands.

I searched for my dad. Standing stiff as a board, my father's eyes were hard and vacant. Tiny tears dribbled soundlessly down his face, and I knew he was thinking about Mom. About Mom and how she died, and about her daughter wearing her mother's dress on the stage . . .

Emerald let go of my hand when it became apparent there would be no applause. She walked over to the boy's ball and carefully picked a slip.

"Tanner Lawson."

There is a slight pause, broken by a small, 12-year-old girl. I know the girl – Katherine, went by Kathi. She had bought an apple from time to time, using small, filthy coins her parents gave her.

"No!" Kathi cried "No, Tanner!"

A boy with Kathi's nut-brown skin and caramel eyes glancexd at her and stepped forward to join me on the stage. He didn't say a word, and Kathi fell into the arms of another girl, sobbing loudly. I looked at the girl, pity filling my eyes. My father was an adult. Kathi was a child.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your male tribute, Tanner Lawson!" Emerald raised Tanner's hand as she had mine.

Like me, he received no applause. The people of District 11 looked from me to Tanner, and back to me again. We were both well known, and liked. The people of District 11 didn't look too happy with the reaping. The only sound was Kathi's sobs, echoing eerily around the square.

I glance at Tanner. His face was set, glaring in a camera's direction. I felt a sudden kinship with him, and, upon instinct, grabbed his hand. He tensed, not expecting this gesture. But, sensing my desperation and sadness, he squeezed my hand back. I noticed his sweaty hand, and I knew and understood his anger.

I was sure of something now:

The Capitol, as a whole, was a monster.

For a moment, before the Capitol, and before our district, Tanner, Estella, and I were one straight line, untied by the Games, defiant and angry at the Capitol. Indestructible.

Then Estella let go of my hand and went into the crowd, as she should have done long ago, and Tanner let go of my hand and turned away from the crowd; from the cameras. From the Capitol. From the Games.

I found that I felt something for Tanner : respect. Great, building, billowing respect from the same place that my anger for the Capitol had come from.

I was tempted to turn around with him, but I didn't. He had let go of my hand. He wanted to be alone.

I crossed my arms and gazed into a camera. I saw my reflection there – strong, defiant, and hurt. Hurt by the Capitol, angry at them. And strong too. A worthy opponent. What I saw shocked me, and I knew that this was how the Capitol saw me.

A threat.

But I enjoyed the thought of being a threat. How wonderful – to cause all sorts of troubles. I felt the smug smile creep onto my lips, and wondered what the Capitol was thinking now.

". . . exciting Hunger Games this year!" Emerald was finishing.

The Capitol's anthem played, and I was whisked off to the Justice Building, and into a private room where friends and family could visit me to say goodbye.

First was my dad.

He sat down beside me, and grabbed my hand. We sat there.

He didn't say much.

He hardly ever did.

As he was being herded out, he told me, "I am proud of what you did today. You are definetly your mother's daughter."

"Dad." I had to say it. I hardly did, but now seemed to be the time to. "Dad, I love you."

"I love you too, honey." He smiled – a rare, beautiful thing that disappeared as he spoke his next sentence. "Win it. Come home. Please."

"I – I will, Dad." Then he's gone.

Estella took his place on the couch. There is nothing to say, because we have exchanged much more than words could ever say. So we are silent.

"Remember your promise," Estella said finally, quietly.

"Promise?"

She smiles at me, and sings:

_I swear to you,_

_I swear it!_

_I shall break through these barriers one day_

_No matter what it takes_

_To break through the injustice_

_To reach the liberty!_

_Freedom!_

I nod at her, allowing a small smile. This stanza was probably the most harmful, but I found that I intended to follow it completely.

"I'll break through," I promised her. "no matter what it takes. In life or death."

Estella stared at me for a long while. Then, reaching into her shirt, she took out a necklace. It was a beautiful thing – golden, and shaped like an apple. I remembered the old Greek tale about the golden apple and how much trouble it had caused. I smiled. The apple was like me.

"It's beautiful, Estella."

"It was my mother's," Estella said quietly, stroking it. Then, in one quick movement, she jerked it off her neck and shoved it at me. "Here. Take it. Take it for your token."

I blinked at her in surprise. "What? No, no. I can't."

"Yes, you can." Her eyes glistened with tears. "take it, Lystra. She'd be happy to know that you had it."

I stared at her for a moment, and silently opened my arms. Estella hesitated, but in the next seconds, her small face was buried in my bare shoulder.

We cried then.

I cried for my poor, alone father.

I cried for my dead mother.

I cried for Estella, the orphan raising her brother.

I cried for Estella's dead parents.

I cried for Kathi, who was losing her brother to almost certain death.

I cried for myself.

When I knew Estella would have to leave, I whispered in her ear, "It's rigged, Estella. Because of the song, I'll die in there . . . and next year they'll put you in and you . . . you . . . you'll die too."

To my surprise, Estella smiled. "Then soon, we'll truly be free." She paused, another grin spreading across her face. "Get it ready up there for me, okay?"

"Okay," I said quietly. And they took her away.


	6. Chapter 5

To my surprise, Issac walked into the room. He sat down beside me, studying my face.

"Hello, Issac," I said, surprised by how normal my voice sounded.

"So your name's Lystra Fay?" he asked finally

I nodded, not finding any words to say.

"My mother used to tell me stories," Issac said slowly "of fairies. Some, she said, were known as Fay."

I smiled nodding. "My mother did too. She named me after the smallest, but the most important Fay – Lystra." I stopped, because we were approaching a hard subject.

"What did Lystra the Fay do" Issac asked. He curled up on the couch beside me, eyes wide and bright. I was suddenly reminded of . . . me. Curling up next to my mom, wanting to hear a story about Lystra the Fay.

"Well . . ." I hesitated, but gave in. "Lystra was born in a time when the Fay weren't free; the goblins from the north had taken control of the Fay kingdom.

"Now, the goblins ruled harshly. They punished the Fay unfairly for simple, desperate crimes that they had been forced to commit do to their hunger. The Fay were underfed and made to work for the goblins in harsh conditions. The Fay were miserable.

"The Fay were not happy with the goblin's harsh rule, and they rebelled. But the goblins killed most of the Fay as punishment, leaving only the smallest and weakest to work for them. They often killed or injured the Fay for sport.

"Lystra was very scared of the goblins like the rest of the Fay. When another Fay was ordered to kill her for the goblin's amusement, Lystra astonished everyone and fended off her attacker. He died. Lystra never quite got over the Fay's death.

"She ran off into the deepest of forests, full of deep Fay magic. She was not pursued long by the goblins, who were afraid of the forest and their magic. But Lystra hid there, scared of being found, scared of being killed. But mostly – scared of herself. She had killed another Fay! Cowering in the forest, she often thought that she couldn't stand it anymore – that she'd just have to die.

"But then, one day, a male Fay – Trieteng – came after her. He had been desperately worried about her, and he came and found her. He helped her come back to herself – to recover after what she had done. Together, surrounded by Fay magic, in freedom, they became some of the most powerful beings of the time.

"They worked like a magnet for the other Fay, and slowly, the Fay gathered with them. Lystra and Trieteng had rebellious thoughts, and started the second rebellion. Trieteng's lively, persuasive words stirred a sudden longing inside the Fay – the need for freedom, and Lystra became the face of the rebeillion. Once they had enough Fay supporting them, they attacked the goblins.

"It was an epic battle. At first, it seemed that the goblin's might would utterly destroy the Fay – with their enormous numbers, mighty axes, and larger and stronger bodies. The goblins were much more frightening also. If a Fay dared look into a goblin's eyes, they would immediately seize up with fear, and be crushed under the goblin's axes.

"But the Fay had their wilderness magic. Being part of something – something big, important, had renewed their use of the magic, and they were more powerful than ever. Even though they, individual and together, were smaller than the goblins, their magic made the two armies equal.

"But when a Fay fell, their magical creations disappeared – the trees they had made to trap a goblin, or the vines chocking another. The goblins pressed forward with their mighty axes, and many Fay fell.

"But Trieteng and Lystra didn't fall. Trieteng inspired the Fay, giving them directions in the battle – frightening and powerful. Lystra was also inspirational, surrounded by her bright green glow. She fought quietly, amongst the Fay, making quiet victories.

"As the Fay fell, and the battle seemed to be turning to the favor of the goblins, Lystra found something awaken in her. Something deeper than the magic – destiny. She felt it : leadership. It was thick and powerful, and Lystra knew what she had to do.

"Battling her way to the leader of the goblins, Lystra's glow brightened, and everyone looked at her despite themselves. When the leader of the goblins saw her, he underestimated her, not knowing the power that now lay inside of her. He cried to her, 'Small one! You think you can defeat me?'

"'No!' she called truthfully up to the large goblin from her light perch on the moss-covered ground. 'But, I, Lystra the Fay, for the sake of freedom, shall die in the attempt if I must!' She flung herself into the air, up to the goblins' height. The goblin leader's arm raised as he brought his axe up, and Lystra raised her hands, palms up to the sky.

"Thus, the true struggle began. Lystra fought spectacularly, spinning about the goblin amidst a bright green haze that radiated her soul. The goblin leader roared viciously at her – a sound that could literally kill. Lystra was not affected, and she spun faster, a green blur flashing about the goblin. The goblin leader swung at her with his axe, often coming startlingly close.

"The other Fay and goblins stopped fighting to watch the battle before them. No one dared interfere for fear that they would miss their mark and hit the other. They could only watch in amazement, as, in unison, Lystra and the goblin leader struck.

"Lystra dived in and pressed her glowing green hand onto where the goblin leader's heart had to be. The goblin glowed bright green, but not in the beautiful way that Lystra did – the green came from his sickly skin – a barf-green. The goblin leader made a horrible sound of anger and pain. He swung his axe, and, concentrating of her Fay magic, Lystra failed to notice. The axe caught her on the shoulder, and she fell to the ground, dead.

"The goblin leader remained standing, and he appeared to be strong, though if you looked close enough, you could see weaknesses remaining. But his goblins rose to him, lining up behind him, and forced the Fay back, who cowered, their leader dead. Until this point, they had not realized how important Lystra was to them.

"They say that Lystra rose from the ground, alive again. They say she looked different, though she acted the same. They say she gave the goblin leader a scathing look, and uttered the spell, cast the blow that ended his breath, stopped his heart, and ended the reign of the goblins."

I stopped and gazed into Issac's eyes for a moment. I hadn't meant to tell him all that . . . but when I had spoken . . . I couldn't have forced myself to stop.

"So?" Issac asked "is what they say true?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I was feeling extremely uneasy – as I was speaking of Lystra the Fay, I had felt as though I was speaking of myself. "I don't know, Issac, I just don't know."

"Well, what do you think?"

I hesitated, thinking of the connection I had felt to Lystra the Fay. Was it just because she was my namesake? Or was there something . . . deeper? "I believe it, Issac."

Peacekeepers came to escort Issac out then. As he went out the door, he asked me,

"Am I like Trieteng?"

"Yes," my eyes filled with tears as the realization set in. I would never see Issac again.

"Then I'll be strong," Issac vowed. "Strong like Trieteng, for my sister."

My tears broke just as Issac left.


	7. Chapter 6

The train was too plush; too comfortable. I looked suspiciously at the couch, and didn't sit down – was it rigged with mines?

The Capitol wanted me dead, after all.

I leaned against a wall, but jumped back off it at the thought that it might be rigged too. I shuffled my feet, confused and worried, but stopped, frozen like a statue, because, of course, the floor may be rigged too.

I stood there a long time, overcome with nerves, before sense returned. No, of course nothing was rigged. I was a tribute – they'd want me alive for the Games.

They'd just kill me in the arena.

Was that better or worse?

I wondered how they planned on killing me – a battle with another tribute? That was risky . . . I might survive, and end up winning the Games. They could poison me beforehand – with some slow-acting poison, so that I'd die in that arena. They could easily blame my death on a plant or something . . .

I shuddered, thinking that the idea was too effective and likely for comfort. Then, something shocking came to mind :

What if they rigged the arena?

They'd never done this before . . . but . . . they could. They very well could . . . and if another tribute set off a trap meant for me . . . well, the Capitol wouldn't even blink an eye – as long as I was killed in the end.

I sank to the floor, suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling that can only be described as claustrophobic. The train and its plush furniture were, in a way, mocking me. I put my face in my hands and everything began to spin in darkness – a dark, deep pit of despair.

No.

That 1 word brought me back.

No.

It was just too much to think about – to accept one's death.

No.

No, I couldn't think about that – not in that moment. I had to be strong. There were surely cameras. I had to keep myself together.

I wandered about the room aimlessly, looking at things. Almost on instinct, I grabbed a pencil and a stack of papers. I tried to control my thoughts from spinning out of control again.

I looked down at the paper, and, not fully comprehending what I was doing, started drawing.

Once I started, I couldn't stop. My hand flew across the paper, shading and making the intricate lines on the paper. I caught small glimpses of the picture – random curves and lines.

When I was done with the first picture, I grabbed another paper. And another.

Emerald called for dinner. I didn't listen. I wasn't hungry anyway. All that mattered now was drawing. I was pouring my emotions, my thoughts, and even my very being. My pencil broke, and I threw it aside, snatching up another.

I think Emerald called a second time before she entered my room.

"Lystra!" she called, her tone angry and crisp. "I've called who-knows-" she caught off abruptly, staring at the pictures spread around me. "My, oh, my," she said, her tone awed now. "Lystra . . ."

I stared at the pictures, for the first time seeing them fully . . . for what they were.

I had drawn Lystra the Fay.

One picture showed her smiling and singing with a smaller Fay. The little Fay had Estella's face.

Lystra standing with her father.

Lystra under the command of the goblins.

Lystra turning fitfully in bed, features contorted in unspeakable hunger.

Lystra speaking with the other Fay, trying to act as though she wasn't miserable.

Lystra fighting the other Fay, her face showing a deep pain in doing so.

Lystra standing with Trieteng, looking defeated, crying. Her features clearly spoke desperation and fear.

The pictures went on and on – some sad, some happy, some bittersweet, others hopeful. But Lystra was in all of them, no matter what the scene. She was the center of it all – none of it would have happened without her.

The last ones were of the epic battle. The Fay, shining and beautiful in an almost elvish way, attacked the brutal goblins. I was shocked by what I had done – each Fay looked different – like someone I had seen, and held themselves the same way. But they were all different, with different looks – of fear and hatred and excitement.

The goblins were random people – as I'd never met anyone from the Capitol, excluding Emerald and the President, of course.

But this was not what surprised me.

What surprised me was the way I'd drawn Lystra.

For she looked like me.

The last one, still in front of me, was of the final battle between Lystra and the goblin leader. The goblin leader I had portrayed as President Snow, wounded and weak. I hovered above him, still surrounded by my bright green glow. By the devastated expressions on the Fay's faces, I knew I was not visible to them.

I was dead.

But . . . in a transformation.

My hair was getting darker – turning to a dark brown, and my eye color a bright green.

I was transforming as Lystra the Fay had.

"Lystra . . ." Emerald had no words for a change. Her eyes were fixed on the wounded President Snow, an expression of startled horror spreading across her face.

I gathered up the papers briskly, acting as though Emerald was not there. I sat the papers on the desk neatly and left the room, going to the dining car. Emerald did not follow me.

Dinner was a quiet thing. Tanner made no means to communicate. Emerald never did show up, which of course was odd to everyone else in the world but to me.

But I did get to meet our trainer – Kayton Roys. She had won just last year – without a mentor. This was honorable, and I was glad to have her experience passed on to me. I was going to meet it.

As I immediately struck conversation with Kayton, I realized something that made me smile slightly : I like her. She was different from anyone I'd ever met – funny, yet deeply sad and stern. I was intrigued by her bright green eyes that perfectly matched her personality. Her bright red bob framed her face perfectly.

Eventually, our conversation stopped. I focused on the food – there was more than I'd ever seen on a table before, and it was all delicious. When I could eat no more, I slumped back into my chair, watching as the uneaten food was thrown away. It seemed quite a waste, as people where starving at that moment.

"Come on," Kayton said, wiping her hands on a napkin and standing up. "let's go watch a recap of the reapings."

I ended up on the couch beside Tanner. I could tell by the way his hand tapped the arm of the couch that he was nervous, anxious to see our competitors – the people we had to kill.

The television lit up with the capitol's seal, and the anthem played. I didn't pay attention as President Snow came on to announce the beginning of the 24th Hunger Games.

I straightened slightly in my seat as District 1 appeared on the screen.

A small, delicate-looking girl was chosen. I felt a bursting amount of pity when no one offered to take her place. I stared at her quiet face, and said nothing to the other two of what was going through my mind. A fat brown-haired boy joined her as the other tribute.

District 2 took 1's place.

A short, mousy-faced girl is chosen, but was quickly replaced by a buff girl with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes. The first girl appeared to be terrified of the second and scrambled off the stage.

A tall and startlingly handsome boy was chosen, but was replaced by a boy that looked like the second girl. When both names were announced, I let out a small gasp.

"So they're siblings?" I asked quietly

Kayton nodded slowly. "Odd that they'd both volunteer . . . knowing they'd have to kill each other . . ." she muttered, so that I could barely hear her, but then she raised her voice as the brother and sister put their arms around each other, grinning broadly "Be careful, you two. I can guarantee an alliance between them."

Tanner and I nodded, turning our attention back to the screen.

Two typical geek kids are chosen in three. One, I notice, seems completely distant – staring off into space as though it were a pleasant afternoon. I raised my eyebrows slightly in question to Kayton as the girl caught a butterfly on her hand. Kayton could only shrug.

In four, a boy had to drag his sibling off him. His fellow tribute stared on, rid of emotion. In six, a girl's sobbing mother had to restrain the girl's young sibling. In nine, a boy's family literally fell to the ground in their sorrow, as though hit.

So it went on.

It was unbelievably painful, and the tears pricked my eyes. It was hard enough most years – but this time, I knew that I had to kill these people – that the crying families on the screen were going to cry more . . . . because I had killed their child.

I pulled my legs up onto the couch, hugging them, trying to comfort myself – to stop thinking of those horrible thoughts.

Then it was eleven's turn.

I watched, fixedly, as Estella was chosen . . . my desperate volunteering . . . Tanner being chosen . . . Tanner, Estella, and I holding hands . . . Tanner turning his back – on the world . . . me, Lystra Fay Gull, staring defiantly at the cameras . . . It all stank of rebellion.

As it should.

I was satisfied.

Then, too soon, we had moved on to twelve. The girl tribute seemed to be a rich kid – the kind I didn't get along with. The boy tribute was tall, dark, and in rags.

Then we go back to a screen with a Capitol woman, who tells us a little bit of background information on each of the tributes – she makes a big deal about the siblings from two. I let out another small gasp when she spills about the girl from six.

"Mazie Skiprose is originally from District 3. I'm sure you all remember her father – 18-year-old Ryker. Mazie was three years old when Ryker died in the Games. Only a few months later, Marielle Skiprose had her youngest child – Wallie. President Snow himself had them moved to District 3."

I narrowed my eyes at the television, and Tanner asked my question for me.

"But why did he move them?"

Kayton shrugged her shoulders. "I guess it was hard for them . . . to have to live with the knowledge of their dead father and husband. Perhaps President Snow showed sympathy."

I felt as though I'd been slapped. I hadn't ever considered the idea that President Snow might have feelings like sympathy. What if he was . . . human? I put the idea aside, not being able to deal with it.

The Capitol woman went on.

The boy from eight's mother was dead. The girl from ten was an orphan.

Then we're to eleven.

All she says about me was, "She lives at home with her father. Her mother died from a concussion seven years ago while pregnant with her second child. She fell out of a tree. The first girl – Estella Mason, is Lystra's only friend, as far as we know."

"Tanner Lawson lives a simple life with his mother, father, and little sister, Katherine 'Kathi.' He enjoys laughing and hanging around with his many friends. His mother says that 'he has a very active social life.'"

The girl from twelve was a wonderful seamstress, apparently. The boy from twelve "is an orphan – twelve adopted him when none would take him, and gave him the job of grave-digging. Although his first name, the one given to him by his parents, is unknown, he is known as Spade, after his preferred type of shovel."

Then there's the Capitol's seal, the anthem, and then silence.

I know we should discuss stratagies, plans. We should talk about the best way to defeat our opponents. But it's all too much. I stood, faking a stretch and a yawn, trying to hide the tears leaking from my eyes, and said,

"I'm going to bed."

_***For all of you confused people, the President Snow mentioned several times in this chapter is the father of the dear President Snow that we all know and love. Snow Jr. is currently 10 years old.***_


	8. Chapter 7

I couldn't sleep.

Pictures danced in my mind's eye – of Estella, of my father, of Issac. Of my dead mother, of President Snow. Of Emereld, of Kayton, of me. Of the other tributes. Of the pictures I drew. Of the terribly gory scenes of the Games that I knew must come.

The moon was high in the sky – casting its silver glow onto the room. The train sped past the crickets and fireflies. The engine was silent, making no competition for the cricket's mystical and lovely song.

Everything looked different in the moonlight – elegant and beautiful. Peaceful.

I got out of the plush, comfortable, and warm bed, walking up to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that open onto a balcony. For a moment, I watched the world fly past, the silver light seeming to cleanse everything. Then, in a single, flurid movement, I threw open the doors.

I nearly fell back from the force that the wind threw into me. I turned my head slightly to the side, hugging the silver and white nightgown closer at the sudden chill. Squinting up, I saw the bright light above me.

I was in the front of the train.

Why would they put me here? Was there a reason – or . . . was it simply . . . random?

But on that quiet, silver-bathed moonlight night, with the crickets chirping happily, I found that it didn't matter.

Ignoring the chill, I stepped out onto the balcony, my face straight forward and held high. Closing my eyes, I spread my arms, embracing the night. The wind ripped at my nightgown and hair, spreading its chill, the feeling, deep into me. My soul screamed, sang, begged with longing for the freedom that the wind held.

Some boring, unimportant part of me said, _Oh, that's why the balcony's in the front. If I try to jump off, I'll be run over._

Why not jump off? Why not jump off and die now, free, and on my own terms? Why wait for the painful death in the arena?

My soul, the deepest part of me, was singing freely now. _I am Lystra!_ it sang _I am the Fay, who lives on in a new form! I am her! Victory is mine to grasp if I chose to reach for it . . ._

_Wait. _The other part said. _What are you saying?_

_I shall strike a blow harder than any other on the Capitol, even though it shall kill me. And then I will come back. I shall look different. I shall cast the final death blow, to finish what I began._

My eyes twitched behind my eyelids, and my face broke into a grin that I was sure made me look crazy.

My emotions – all thoughts of family, friends, and the other tributes – were gone. I felt powerful – I _was_ powerful. I could literally feel the power radiating off of me in waves. I was invincible – Lystra the defender of all justice. Lystra the powerful. Lystra the Queen – queen of all there was to command, if I only accepted the crown . . .

I was proud, courageous, and beautiful in a way that would absolutely terrify you.

I was one once more. It was right – to be complete again . . . whole . . . one . . .

Perhaps it was those long moments on the balcony that gave me the strength to go on in the next few weeks.


	9. Chapter 8

_***Okay so this is the first chapter not dedicated to Lystra's POV. Most will be in her POV, although on the occasion she was not taking place in important parts of this story. This one is in the POV of (senior) President Snow's 12-year-old daughter, Nich.***_

I hardly ever saw Poppa.

He saw Snow a lot, but never me.

I supposed it's because I didn't look like him – not like Snow, at least.

So I played around – normally by myself. I had plenty of friends, but I preferred to be alone.

Maybe it would have been different if my mother was still alive.

But she had died giving birth to Snow.

I like Snow.

I'm glad Momma gave him to me. He's my only real friend.

Father hired tutors for me and Snow. He said that Snow had to learn, as Snow would one day be President. He said I might as well learn too.

The tutors were kind, and I liked them. They were friends, too, I suppose.

But not children friends.

Although the tutors taught me much, there was much I didn't understand.

Why didn't father care more for me?

Whhy did the television show children dying?

Why did everyone enjoy watching it?

Why was it a celebration?

I questioned the purpose of the Hunger Games, and once I mentioned it to a tutor. He told me that we killed the children so that they would learn a lesson.

I thought it to be a bit overkill.

I told my tutor that, and he stared at me for a moment. "Good day," he finally said, packing up the books and leaving.

I thought more about the Hunger Games, and decided to approach my father about it.

Turns out, he really didn't want to talk about it. I fled, my face tear-stained after he threw a book at me and yelled. I ran to my room, and grabbed a coat. Then I fled onto a train, and hid there, savoring the wonderful taste of adventure and freedom and danger.

I got hungry on the train ride, and the cramps in my stomach dimmed the feeling of adventure. I was doubled over hugging my knees, and longing for home and Snow, when the train stopped.

I sat there a moment, thinking I'd just stay on until the train went back home, but my stomach changed my mind. I crept out of the train, trying to stay low, but froze when I saw the conditions of district four.

Most of the houses were broke down and poorly built, as though of driftwood. The people suffered harsh conditions, and wore little clothes. As I crouched by the train, I witnessed a man being beaten. Terrorized and hungry, I ran behind the houses, the terror driving me on.

Eventually I collapsed, the hunger overcoming me. That was when she found me.

She took me into her house, and sat me on a chair – one of their only pieces of furniture. She put a piece of raw fish into my hands, and, in my hunger, I ate it, not caring what it was. When I had finished, I looked at her for a moment, before saying.

"Thank you."

"Who are you?" was her immediate question. I then noticed that she was staring at me. I blushed, embarrassed. It was then that I realized that I must look very odd to her – with my unnatural-color of red hair worn in a bob, nails that continuously flashed different colors, and my bright red and blue clothes.

"I'm Nich," I said, avoiding the topic of my family. "and you are?"

"I'm Mazie Skiprose," she replied, and I studied her a moment, comparing her to me.

She wore her curly black hair in pigtails, and her brown eyes flashed rebelliously. Her nails were short, jagged, and uneven. Her blue shirt failed to cover her shoulders, but the sleeve ran to her wrist, and the shirt itself cut off at the mid-waist. Her skirt went to her knees, and her shoes were a piece of fabric that appeared to be waterproof, and didn't cover her toes or heels. She was incredibly skinny.

We made quite the pair.

"Thank you for feeding me," I said, fully aware that the girl needed the food for herself. Mazie gave a noncommunticational grunt. We sat there a moment.

"I should really go," I said quietly. Mazie nodded. "Which way to the trains?"

"Behind the house? It's right for about a mile." I nodded, and stood, going to the door. I looked behind me once, at the strange girl.

"Goodbye. And thank you again."

She did not reply 'goodbye' so I simply left.

Back in the capitol, I found that I couldn't stop thinking of the girl, Mazie, and I hopped on the train again one day, going back to four. To be honest, I think Mazie wasn't too thrilled to see me. When I knocked on the door, a little girl answered, about three or four years old. I immediately saw the resemblance between her and Mazie – they looked exactly alike, but this new girl had straight hair, instead of curly.

"Hello," I told her kindly, because she looked a little scared of me. "Is Mazie home?"

"You have food," the little girl ignored my question and pointed at the bundle of food in my hand.

"Yes, I do. Do you want some?" the girl wordlessly nodded her head, and allowed me to enter, calling, "MAZIE!"

Mazie came in, and I sat them down and made them eat the food I'd brought. Mazie introduced the little girl as Wallie, her sister. I stayed with them for awhile, and then left once more.

I went back and forth for quite a while, between the capitol and district 4. Once, the train had stopped by seven before going to four, and I had caught a glimpse of the conditions there, which certainly weren't good, but appeared to be much better. When I told Mazie of it later that day, she said,

"Sure sounds nice. I wish we were there, not here." When I hesitantly asked why, she said, "My father . . . he . . . was chosen for the Hunger Games . . . four years ago. He . . . he didn't make it out alive. And . . . well . . . it's been . . . incredibly hard . . . for us . . . afterwards . . ."

I had felt the pity inside of me for my new friend, and I patted her back for a moment. When I left that day, an idea was bubbling inside of me.

It took me two weeks to save up enough money, and find a train that fit my needs. Then I got on the train, and went to Mazie's house.

"Nich!" she cried, giving me a short hug "it's been too long."

"Too long," I agreed, and then I smiled. "is your mom and Wallie here?"

"Yes, Nich, but why?"

I grinned "You're being relocated."

"What?"

"Let me paint a picture for you," I said dramatically, spreading my hands wide "your house is empty, and everyone assumes that you've run off and been eaten by wild animals. But you really went on the train with me to seven, where I've already bought you a house. It's in a fairly empty part of town – no one will notice you've arrived."

"Nich, I . . ." she seemed at loss for words. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, Nich!"

And so I took them to seven, and into their new home, along with some money that should have paid for their food and other necessities to get them settled in. Then I'd left.

I rarely visited Mazie anymore. It was getting harder and harder to sneak around to seven. It had been four weeks since I had seen Mazie, and I was watching the reaping in my bedroom.

Imagine my surprise, shock, and horror when Mazie Skiprose from District Seven was chosen for the Hunger Games.


	10. Chapter 9

I didn't speak as my prep team got me ready. I stared at a bright green wall, fingering Estella's golden apple-shaped locket, deep in thought. In my mind, I was still on the balcony in the front of the train . . . arms open . . . embracing destiny . . .

I had already met my stylist – Vincent. He was a tall, strict-looking man with dark black hair and dull blue eyes. He wore a formal suit, and wore his long black hair in a ponytail town his back, tied with a white ribbon. He spoke with a clean, crisp accent.

"Lystra Fay Gull," my name sounded alien in his mouth. He stopped speaking, and had stared at me for a long moment, before turning and walking off.

At first I had been startled, even shocked, by the way that he had treated me – as if I was small, unimportant. After a few moments of feeling indignant, I let out a short, bark-like laugh. For maybe I was small, unimportant – despite what I had felt on the balcony the past night. I like how straightforward he was with me – he did not use unnecessary words, and it suited him.

My prep team was different.

The first, a perky woman with plain brown hair, had introduced herself as Cario. I couldn't help staring at the tattoos that lay on her skin – they appeared to be stenciled in brown – with a pattern of circles and straight lines. She wore plain brown clothes and her eyes were bright red. She moved with overly graceful moves, and spoke with a slur, as if she were drunk.

The second was Hezi. His dusty blonde hair and skin was the same color of parchment, and strange tattoos littered his skin in no obvious pattern like Cario's. They moved about, like ants on ground dusted with dirt. After a few moments of staring, I realized that he was a map – the whole of Panen was on his skin. Each little house was there – each tree, each wagon, each ant. I could see rivers flowing down his arm, emptying into a lake on his wrist. With a start, I realized that the moving tattoos were animals and humans – going about their daily business, and interacting with each other. They were so perfectly drawn, that when I looked at Hezi's cheekbone, I could clearly see a man eating an apple outside his house, and his wife sitting next to him sewing a new shirt. I could clearly see every thread of the cloth, as if I was standing before them.

When Hezi held out his hand, I immediately shook it. Hezi smiled slightly and shrugged off my hand, pointing at his palm. I actually stepped back in shock when I saw a small figure on his palm that looked exactly like me. When I stepped back, it did too, and when I covered my mouth with my hands, it did too.

My prep team all laughed in delight at my reaction.

The third, Marinah, had long aqua-marine hair and matching eyes. At first, I thought she was wearing a metal bodysuit, but when I looked closer, I found that her skin was in separate pieces, shaped as overlapping ovals. The pieces were, as far as I could see, still flesh, but they seemed to be metal by the way that they threw off the light in a cascade of colors I found quite startling.

As they introduced themselves, I complimented them on their odd décor, which simply charmed them. They went on for ten minutes about how they had been inspired to get it done. When they asked me, 'haven't you seen turquoise hair before, dear?' I had responded truthfully 'no'. This sent waves of distress into them, and, upon further questioning, they found out about my horribly un-glamorous life. When Cario stopped sobbing (her red eyes looked extremely frightening when she cried), she smiled a watery smile at me.

"Don't worry, dear," she said, patting my shoulder. "Vincent has designed a gorgeous outfit for you."

"Oh, dear!" Marinah exclaimed "just wait! You're going to love it!"

"It's his best," said Hezi earnestly, nodding happily "absolutely stunning."

"But you're not ready to wear it yet – we have to make you gorgeous first!" Marinah exclaimed, and the prep team had begun their furious attempt to make me beautiful.

In just over an hour, all grime and hair had been taken from my body, leaving me a peach pink – like a newborn baby.

Then Vincent came back in.

In his arms, cradled like you would a child, was a mound of cloth. I was craning my neck, trying to see it better, when he set it down on a table, and blocked it with his body. He studied me for a long moment, and then said,

"Well, I can at least look at you, now."

Ah, he was so straightforward and truthful with me, I smiled at him. To my delight, he smiled back, and directed me,

"Close your eyes."

I immediately obeyed, and there was a slight shuffling sound, cloth slipping over my skin – it was cool and smooth. I stepped into soft slippers. A rough beaded necklace was slipped over my neck, and rough beaded earrings were put into my newly pierced ears.

There were some rustling and adjusting as my prep team adjusted the dress and accessories, and a headband was slipped onto my head. There was more shuffling, and then silence.

"Open your eyes."

I opened my eyes, and let out a loud gasp.

My hair was in a simple long ponytail, blending in with the color of my golden dress. The dress was shaped to resemble the shape of an apple, and the jewelry was brown, as was the headband, and it resembled the stem of the apple.

With a start, I realized that Vincent had made me into a golden apple – the mystical fruit.

I smiled for a moment when I remembered the story of the golden apple – how much trouble that had caused! It was an old greek myth.

Zeus, king of the gods, was holding this banquet, and he had forgotten to invite Eris. Eris was angry, and had sent a golden apple to the party, with a note saying, 'to the fairest.' And three goddesses claimed the apple : Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite. Zeus knew that Paris was the most beautiful of mortals, and decided that he should judge who should get the golden apple.

Each of the goddesses offered Paris a gift as a bribe for winning the contest, and the golden apple. Hera offered to make him a famous, powerful king. Athena offered to make him wise above gods. And Aphrodite offered to make Helen of Sparta his wife. Paris chose Aphrodite.

Paris went to Helen's marriage with Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and later abducted her, and they both sailed to Troy.

It was this act that began one of the bloodiest wars of Greece – the Trojan War. In the end, Menelaus took Helen back to Sparta.

With a smile, I remembered my night on the balcony, and the same wild joy came over me. I realized something all of a sudden : I hoped to cause just as much trouble – if not, more. But not only that, I was sure that I would cause all of the trouble . . . trouble to begin a war . . .

A war that would put an end to the Capitol.


	11. Chapter 10

_***This is Lystra Fay Gull's POV again***_

It was rather cruel, I thought, that they made us stand here by the carriages before the parade. All of the tributes were hanging awkwardly about the carriages, not looking at one another, or speaking. I fingered the vines that decorated the carriage of District 11.

"How much longer?" I murmured to Tanner, whose stylist has taken advantage of his beautiful nut-brown skin and made him an almond. With the lighter brown streaks down his face, I can almost believe that I am speaking to a living nut.

Tanner shrugged. "Who knows?"

We fell back into silence. I looked about me. The girl from seven – Mazie, I remembered, smiled at me. I smiled shakily back. She patted her wrist, mouthing the word, 'Time?' I shrugged raising my eyebrows, and she let out an overly frustrated sigh that brought another smile to my lips. Mazie smiled back and at me, and motioned something that I didn't understand. When I raised an eyebrow, she came over to our carriage.

"Hello," she said, smiling at me and Tanner. "My name is Mazie Skiprose, District 7."

"Lystra Fay Gull," I replied, extending my hand to her "District 11."

Mazie shook my hand, and turned to Tanner, who took her hand with a gruff "Tanner Lawson."

"It's nice to meet you," Mazie smiled once more, staring at our outfits "Who are your stylists? I need to go and worship them."

I laughed despite myself. "Really outdid themselves didn't they?"

"You look amazing," Mazie told us earnestly. Then she looked about us, at the other tributes. "I've spoken to all of them – most are surprisingly not friendly."

I laughed again because it was all so hilarious and stupid. "Well, you can hardly blame them."

Mazie suddenly looked serious. "No, I suppose we can't."

The three of us fell into a gloomy silence until another girl joined us, dragging a boy behind her.

The mere sight of the girl made my mouth drop – her stylist had adorned her in a simple scratchy brown dress, leaving her black hair down to fall into her green eyes and face unadorned in makeup. But what astonished me was around her neck, on a simple brown chain – a metal fish that threw off the light in a cascade of colors so bright that I had to look away.

The boy behind her was not too hard to look at either – he was tall, and had light brown hair that framed his face, with green eyes that shone with refined beauty. His brown cow outfit left his chest bare, exposing extreme muscles that didn't seem to match his personality.

"Hey, Mazie," said the girl, taking hold of the boy's arm. "This is Satch." The girl made it quite obvious that she was interested in the boy – Satch, and that Mazie should be too.

"Hello, Satch," said Mazie with easy smile. She sent the girl a warning look, and turned back to me and Tanner. "This is Rayne Issa, District 4, and this is . . ." she trailed off, raising an eyebrow at the boy, indicating that he should introduce himself.

"Satch Collins," his voice was soft and polite "District 10."

"Nice to meet you," I said to them. Tanner muttered something unintelligible.

"How long until they let us out of here?" Rayne asked "I want to get this over with."

The rest of us muttered agreements, staring at the doors that would open when it was time to get into the carriages and shuffling amongst ourselves. Eventually, Rayne and Mazie wandered off to the District 12 carriage, and Satch went back to the District 10 carriage.

Eventually, the doors opened, and everyone got into their carriages. I could hear the cheers as the District 1 kids go out . . . they always were crowd-pleasers . . . I fingered the vines again, nervous. Tanner caught my eye, and we both grimaced at the cheers going up for District 2 . . .

One by one the carriages left, until ours was the next. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and gave the vine one last squeeze before turning to the cheering crowd and smiling. I saw Tanner do the same.

The crowd's cheers were instantaneous, and I heard people calling our names, "Lystra! Tanner!" I smile at them, catch flowers, and blow kisses. The reward me with more cheers, calling out my name. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tanner doing the same, though perhaps a bit more refined than me.

Eventually, all of the carriages reached the square, and the President and his two children walked onto the stage. "People of Panem," called out the President in a loud voice "I am proud to announce the beginning of the 24th Hunger Games!"

There was a loud cheer from the crowd, and the President called out to them, "I think we can promise an interesting Games this year!" Another cheer "So here's to the 24th Hunger Games!" the President raised his arm in a salute to the crowd, and they called, "Cheers!" to him.

The President was about to speak again when his daughter pushed him aside, taking the mike. She put one hand on the mike and one on her hips, and screamed into the mike, "LET'S HEAR SOME NOISE!" I resisted the urge to cover my ears at the deafening roar.

The whole Capitol screamed in approval of the girl's statement, and she called out again, "FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON'T KNOW ME, I'M NICH, AND I'M READY TO GET THIS PARTY STARTED!" More cheers of approval.

The cheers continued for a long time, and Nich occasionally joined in with them. When they died, Nich called, "All right! All right, everybody! All right, I want to make a few shout-outs here! First, to the Gamemakers, for the amazing arena this year!" There were sudden furious cries of jealousy "Yes, I have seen it, and, really, they've outdone themselves!"

"SECONDLY!" Nich screeched "THANKS TO OUR TRIBUTES, BECAUSE WITHOUT THEM, WE WOULD HAVE NO GAMES!" There was a large amount of cheering at this, and all of the tributes stood, abashed. I blushed slightly.

"THANK YOU!" called out Nich "REALLY, YOU'RE A GREAT AUDIENCE TONIGHT! AND, I INVITE YOU AL TO MY PARTY TONIGHT! EVERY ONE OF YOU! BRINGYOUR FRIENDS – WE ARE GOING TO HAVE AN AWESOME START TO THE HUNGER GAMES THIS YEAR!" There was a deafening roar of thanks from the crowd.

"ALL RIGHT! I'LL SEE YOU TONIGHT! THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!" the stage went dark, and three shadowy figures moved off the stage.


	12. Chapter 11

_***All right, this one is from Mazie Skiprose's POV***_

My room was comfortable, and I took a long shower, enjoying having fun with the different bubbles and scents. I got into linen pajamas, and ate a piece of lasagna. Then I lounged on my bed with a strawberry-banana smoothie, waiting.

Nich came at exactly 11:25. She wore a bright red party dress, and a dark hood that hid her face and hair. She had a large bag draped over her arm, and it seemed to be full. While she smelled of champagne, her eyes were clear, and her voice and movements steady when she said,

"I'm here."

These two words didn't mean anything to me, and I sat there for a long moment before Nich said,

"Oh, Mazie, what are we going to do?"

Then the emotions hit me, and before I knew it I was crying in Nich's arms, letting it all out. Nich's sobs accompanied my own, and I knew that she was crying too. I clutched her close, because she was part of my childhood – something I could hold close even though I was about to die, for I surely was going to die.

When our sobs subsided, I brought out the smoothie, and we drained it, chocking and gasping every few moments. When even those stopped, and the smoothie was empty, I spoke to Nich,

"You will take care of Mother and Walie?"

Nich hesitated. "No. You will."

I stopped and stared at Nich. "What do you mean? I can't win this thing – my father died when he tried . . . what makes you think that I could . . . ?"

Nich patted my hand, knowing that my father was a delicate topic. "No, Mazie," she said slowly "I have no doubt that you could beat it – if not for your father's involvement." Her voice lowered slightly. "It would just be too much of a distraction for you."

I nodded and sniffled. "But there's no way out of it."

Nich's face moved behind her hood, and I thought that she was smiling. "Ah, Mazie, this is where you're wrong. There is a way out, and I have already arranged for it."

I blinked. My mind was fuzzy from all the crying – was I imagining things now, too? "A way out?"

"Yes," Nich said "Mazie . . . before I tell you . . . promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise that you'll do it. No matter what it is – not just for your own good, but for the good of your family, and for me. I have to do this, Mazie, because I cannot live my life as my father's daughter anymore. I do not wish to be his daughter, and, with this act, I pronounce myself not to be. But you must promise me that you will go with it."

I hesitated, looking at Nich. The plan sounded dangerous, and I was ready to say no when I saw the wild look in Nich's eye, and I realized how desperately she wanted me to say yes. I remembered how she had relocated my family, and how worried they would be right now . . . Nich had helped me once – couldn't I help her now, in return?

"All right, Nich," I sighed, putting my face in my hands. "I'll do it."

"Then look at me," she directed in a superior tone "for your troubles end here."

I looked up toward her, and my mouth dropped in surprise and horror as Nich lowered her dark hood.

Nich was a perfect mirror image of my own self.

"Hello," Nich extended a hand to me (my hand, I now saw), using a voice that was not hers (my voice) "I'm Mazie Skiprose."


	13. Chapter 12

_***All right, this is from a narrator's POV (3**__**rd**__** person this time – I know, it's random). ALSO, if you have any questions about this story, message me and I can explain some things to you. ANOTHER ALSO: if you message me/review, I will give you a preview on the arena!***_

ABOUT 14 YEARS BEFORE THE 24TH HUNGER GAMES (IN DISTRICT 10)

A dark form moved beside a river. It was tall and slender, and beside it walked one of taller, firmer build. Behind the two moved two smaller figures, with exactly the same build. Looking at them, anyone could tell that they were twins. And, if one had an apt eye, they could point out the similarities between all four of the figures, and assume that the twins were walking with their mother and father.

And anyone with any sense could see that they were frightened. The twins, who seemed to be toddlers, hurried after their mother, and were clearly trembling. Their mother was crouched down, gazing about her like a startled bird. Under her arm she held a small basket. The father and mother began to wade into the river. Their toddlers let out a quiet, startled sound, and hurried after them.

The family made their way to the center of the river. When the toddlers became too short for the walk, the mother scooped up one in her arms, and placed the other in the basket that appeared to be full of food. They trudged on.

The family was about halfway to the center of the river when the mother made her fatal mistake. Her mind full of terror and caution, she thought not of the river floor, and she stepped on a twig.

The snap echoed throughout the river, and the family felt in that instant that everyone would hear it. For a moment, they all were still, and then there was a dog's howl in the distance. "Move," the father told the mother "Move, move!" And the two waded faster through the river, now stumbling downstream occasionally to get away from the hounds that hunted them. More howls joined the first, and the sound came closer, closer.

"Here, Mary," said the father, pointing towards a thick clump of water lilies at near the middle of the river, further downstream. "We'll hide there."

And the family slid with the currents into the water lilies, burying themselves inside it, and trying not to move. They did not speak, did not dare breathe. Even the twins understood the need for silence, and clammed up their tiny bodies – one in the basket, the other huddled beside her parents.

For a long time, all was silent. There was no sound of any hounds. The family relaxed slightly. It was because of this, it seems, that what happened did.

A hound howled nearby – it seemed to be only a few meters away.

The mother, Mary, gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in an agitated manner, and the basket, which was in her hands, slipped out of her reach, out of the water lilies, and into the open.

Mary let out an audible cry, thinking of her baby in the basket, and splashed after it without a second thought. That father stood, his eyes on his fleeing wife. "Mary!" he called in a hushed yell "Mary, no!" But she disappeared from his sight, and was gone. The father stood up from his crouched position and hurried after her. All thoughts of the other child, still crouched amongst the water lilies, had disappeared from his mind.

The child heard a frenzy of barking, yelling, a gun shot . . . a cry of pain, a cry of rage, another gunshot . . . wailing, crying, screams . . . silence . . .

The child began to cry in terror, and stumbled out of the water lily patch. There they were – her mother and father, bleeding into the water, their bodies slowly being tugged away, dead. She wailed in despair and tried to follow them.

A man on the bank rose his gun to shoot the child, but another restrained him. "No," his gruff voice said "it's just a child. Let's take it to the orphanage." And so they did so – wading into the water and tugging the screaming, child away from the dead bodies of her parents. They put her in the orphanage, where she lived her life. Her memories of that night were vividly clear, and she could remember her twin's and her parent's faces clearly.

But she never thought that the basket might have escaped.

For it did, going down the river. The people of District 8 found her, and put her in their orphanage, where she lived her life. Her memories of that night were vividly clear, and she could remember her twin's and her parent's faces clearly.

Fate is a powerful thing.

Fate brought Mazie into the Hunger Games, and Nich along with her.

Fate brought Lystra into the Hunger Games.

Fate brought both of the twins into the Hunger Games.

Their names are Echo and Totsie Griffensong – Totsie being the child in the basket, Echo being the child in the water lilies.

And now they have to kill each other.


	14. Chapter 13

_***Back to the time of the 24**__**th**__** Hunger Games, and back to the Capitol. This is Lystra's POV***_

I woke the next morning, stretching in my bed. I blinked and yawned, climbing out of my bed. I stared about me for a moment, and it took me a while to remember where I was. When I did remember, a horrible pang of homesickness took me, but I shook it off and entered the bathroom.

I spent about two hours playing with the gadgets in the bathroom, and would have stayed longer, if not that Emerald came and told me that it was time for breakfast. So I put on the brown pants, gold tee-shirt and headband that Vincent had laid out, along with Estella's locket, and walked out into the dining room.

Breakfast was a quiet thing, for none of us had anything to say. But, as Tanner and I finished, Kayton told us that we were to go to training with her. So the tree of us went down the hallway and into the elevator. It was there that Kayton confronted us.

"Lystra, Tanner, you two had better perk up. You need alliances, and no one is going to want to team up with two people acting the way you are. So, I don't care what is brining you down – whether it be homesickness or worry, but you are going to act like you are thrilled with what has been happening lately, do you hear me?" Tanner and I both muttered something unintelligible, and Kayton smiled.

"Good," she said. "Now, moving on, I want you two to both take advantage of this training time – learn some new things, find out what you're good at, and make friends. Alliances are essential. Once you find something that you're good at, stay away from it – hide what you're good at, and work it to your advantage."

Tanner and I both nodded to show we'd understood, and the elevator arrived at the Training Area. We both plastered fake smiles on our faces and bid Kayton goodbye. We wondered onto the floor, staring around at the different stations. We were almost immediately joined by a large group of figures, most of whom I didn't know.

Rayne stood beside me, and I smiled at her slightly. She seemed to have lost a lot of her bubble-ie-ness form the previous night, and was quite mellow. Her mood seemed to match mine, which made me content. So I stood by her, speaking only enough to keep up my happy mood thing.

Once the Gamemakers came in, we were permitted to go to our stations. I caught Tanner's eye. With unspoken agreement, we turned our backs on one another and walked in separate directions – him to the bows, and I to camouflage, where Mazie sat.

"Hello," I greeted her as I sat down beside her.

"Hello," she replied

The trainer began to instruct us on berries – how to squeeze the juice out, mix it into camouflage, and then apply the camouflage. Mazie and I both proved apt, and (remembering Kayton's instructions) we moved on to knots.

I managed to tie satisfactory knots, but Mazie was so extremely challenged that she ended up tying her hands into her knot. She left me to join the swords station.

I moved on, completing all the stations I could. I proved to be "satisfactory" and "apt" in everything that I tried, but I wasn't particularly good at anything. I could handle a bow and arrow as well as a sword or an axe, but they all felt clumsy in my hands.

I moved to the knives station, where a couple of tributes were attempting to throw knives onto the moving wax dummies. I picked up a knife with a large blade and a short handle, took a breath, and threw.

The knife fell to the ground a split second after the dummy moved out of the way. Baring my teeth slightly, I looked at the knives, this time choosing a knife with a long hilt and a short blade – more similar to the ones that we used in 11. I took a deep breath and threw it.

The knife embedded itself into a dummy's heart. The other tributes at the station glanced at me and glared in jealousy.

I grabbed another knife and threw it. Another. Another. Before I was totally aware of what I was doing, I was grabbing three, four knives at once, and throwing them all. Dummies' human-like bodies were marred, and looked more like shaggy dogs than humans.

A sword hit the knife in my hand, and I am startled out of whatever trance I was in. I looked up, and there was Tanner.

"Time to move on," he told me in a low voice. I blinked several times at him before understanding came to me. I glanced about me, abashed, to find seven tributes watching me; some shocked, some jealous, others considering me. Rayne, who was standing by me, held out a hand and helped me up.

"I think," she said slowly "we should form an alliance."

Id considered Rayne. She seemed strong and fairly honest. 'Alliances are essential'...but could I trust her? I didn't want to be the tribute killed by her own back-stabbing ally . . . but then again, I could hardly afford to offend her, either.

"Rayne," I began slowly

"Not now," she suggested, winking at me. "Sleep on it." She started to walk off, but turned to speak to Tanner. "That offer extends to you too." Tanner mumbled something about sleeping on it, and Rayne turned and walked away.


	15. Chapter 14

_***Lystra's POV! Also, people have been messaging me asking me about Totsie and Echo – Those are their names today, not back then. MESSAGE ME PLEASE, I AM BEGGING HERE! I AM ON MY KNEES!***_

The rest of training that day passed uneventfully – Tanner and I spent lots of time at the non-violent stations, trying not to show off our skills, but still managing an 'acceptable' in whatever we could.

I was walking to my room, yawning, planning on freshening up for dinner and then going straight to bed. But that changed the moment that I saw the note beneath the door. It was stark white and perfectly folded. It seemed to pull me towards it, as if begging me to read it.

I slowly bent to take it, feeling uneasy. Was this unusual? We never saw anything like it on the television . . . I had the note in my hand. I looked around me, suddenly feeling secretive. Ducking into the room, I locked the door securely and sat down on the bed.

I took a deep breath and opened the note.

It said something to the likeness of the following:

Lystra Fay Gull,

I understand that Rayne has requested you as an ally. I myself have started an alliance into which Rayne has already joined. We are having a meeting on the rooftop tonight at midnight to get more people to join our alliance. I hope you will join us, for you would make a powerful ally, as well as a formidable foe.

However, Lystra, I must warn you that this is no ordinary alliance. I hope to make history by starting this alliance, for I know that no one has ever been as bold as to make one such as this before. I terribly hope you will join us, if only to put an end to your curiosity.

Also, for safety measures, I must also request that you do the following, whether you decide to join us tonight or now:

Do not tell anyone.

Burn this letter.

Respectfully Yours,

Mazie Skiprose

I read the letter several times before raising my eyes from the carefully printed writing, blinking several times as I considered Mazie's proposition.

Mazie's new alliance sounded . . . risky, and perhaps even illegal. _'no one has ever been as bold . . .'_ No, I definitely didn't like the sound of this – too many things could go wrong. Would this alliance go against the rules of the Hunger Games? If so, it would surely draw the attention of the President, and the people involved would most certainly be killed.

And I especially didn't like the part about meeting at midnight.

Emerald peeked her head in. "Time for dinner, Lystra!" I jumped, startled out of my trance. I blinked several times at Emerald before saying, "All right." Emerald disappeared from sight, but her words reverberated several times in my mind, leaving an echo.

I started to get up, setting the letter on the table, but my eyes fell on the last line: _'Burn this letter.'_ I hesitated. I didn't trust Mazie's new alliance, and instinctively wanted to go against their wishes. But . . .

I stuck the note in my pocket and entered the dining room quietly. They were all waiting for me – Tanner, Emerald, Kayton, Vincent, and Kao (Tanner's stylist).

"Hello," I addressed them all as a whole, detecting an odd note in my voice. Maybe not as cheerful as normal.

"Hello, Lystra," Kayton addressed me first, nodding to the seat across from her, beside Tanner. I took it, wringing my hands nervously because everyone seemed to want to talk. My first thought was of the letter, and my hand instinctively darted to my pocket. Had they read it before me?

"So," Kayton leaned forward "how was training?"

"Good," I replied, casting about for something to look at. Tanner grunted his agreement.

"Are you good at anything?" asked Kao

"Knives," I told the piece of bread I was buttering.

"Tanner, what about you?" Emerald pressed the ever-silent Tanner. I looked up at him briefly.

He shrugged. "I'm okay with tools."

"And allies?" Kayton demanded. It was quite clear that she cared about little else.

I tensed slightly, thinking again of the letter. Did Kayton know? Was she going to press me? Why was I being so secretive – obeying the letter without a second thought?

"Rayne," Tanner told Kayton when it was clear I wasn't going to speak. "Rayne wants to form an alliance."

Kayton smiled, seeming pleased. "Good." And she scooped a piece of chicken gracefully onto her plate, soon becoming lost in the food.

We ate more food than humans should, myself included. I was growing accustomed to this new diet. But my mind was not with the food, but in my pocket, with the letter.

Halfway through the meal, everyone was in deep conversation except me and Tanner, and I was finding the burden of the letter quite heavy indeed. Feeling the compelling need to tell someone, I nudged Tanner slightly.

Tanner raised his head from his stew, an eyebrow lifting silently. Just as silently, I took out the letter. His eyes widened suddenly and he thrust the letter back towards my pocket.

"Why didn't you burn it?" he hissed, glancing about him

"I – what?"

"I burned mine," he hissed, ever quieter "Why didn't you?"

"You got one?"

"Of course I – " but he stopped abruptly and returned to his stew. When I tried to engage him again, he swatted me off. I returned to my chicken.

I thought a lot during that meal, hardly speaking at all. But I decided something : I was not joining Mazie's alliance – there were too many risks. The end of the meal fast approaching, and my mind made up, I stood to excuse myself.

"Wait, Lystra," Kayton said. I sat down slowly, glancing at her suspiciously. Was she going to admit to reading the letter?"

"What about Mazie?" Kayton asked

I froze. "Mazie?"

Kayton nodded "Mazie Skiprose. Word is that she's looking for an alliance."

_Word's right_ I thought, but I only said, "I'll look into it." Then I excused myself, walking towards my room.

"Lystra," A hand landed on my shoulder as I was opening my bedroom door. "Lystra, we need to talk."

I didn't turn to face Tanner, but allowed him to enter the room. Again feeling uneasy, I locked the door and sat in the recliner.

"Lystra, we need to talk about the letter."

I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of the leather against my skin. "I don't see what there is to talk about. We obviously wouldn't be attending the meeting."

I could almost feel Tanner's unease. "I disagree." He hesitated before continuing, "We need allies, Lystra. They're vital to our survival."

I didn't say anything for a long moment, because the boy had a point. I weighed my options again, and my mistrust in the alliance won out again. "We have each other, Tanner."

There was a long pause. "Well, I'm going to the meeting. I don't want to pass up something like this."

"You should – it's obviously not trustworthy."

Tanner pounded his face on the arm of his chair, and I slightly opened one eye, lazily.

"This isn't a game, Lystra!" he said in a deadly voice. "No matter what the Capitol thinks – it is no game. This is life and death. Either we die or we kill so we can live."

He paused, breathing hard. He was shaking all over in his rage. I raised an eyebrow slightly at him – where was this new Tanner been hiding?

But the Tanner I knew came back in an instant, and he was on the couch, his face in his hands, sobbing, and shaking harder than every.

"I don't want to kill them," his shaky voice was slightly muffled by his hands.

"Everyone must die," I commented, letting my eye drift closed, and relishing the feeling of the leather once more.

"I don't want to die!" Tanner uttered his little wail, and lifted his hands to look at me. "But I don't to be a killer."

His mourning, troubled voice awakened the same conflicting emotions inside of me. I felt pity, and hopelessness well up inside of me, and I sat up, opening my eyes, all thoughts leaving the leather.

"Neither do I," I whispered. I stared at Tanner for a moment, seeing only a small, brown-haired boy with red eyes. How could he be a killer? "but I have to . . . I can't know them, Tanner, it will only be more difficult . . ." I glanced into the mirror. There was a girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Her eyes were deep with sorrow and regret and pain. How could she be a killer? The girl on the balcony was a killer, but not the girl in the mirror.

"We should go to the meeting," Tanner lifted his face for a moment to say "if we are only going to rob them of their lives . . ." he sniffled and disappeared again. "it's the least . . ."

I considered his proposition. Pictures flashed through my mind : Rayne, Mazie, the siblings from 2, the girl from 8, Totsie, the girl from 10, Echo.

Of Tanner.

Of me.

I might be dead in a few days.

We all might be.

Didn't that unite us, while the Hunger Games continued to rip us apart?

"All right, Tanner," I slumped back onto my pillows, wondering what I was getting myself into. "We'll go."


	16. Chapter 15

_***Message me and review, please! This is from Tanner Lawson's POV. And yes, to the person who reviewed but didn't put a user name in, this was inspired by your comment about Tanner.***_

I had wanted to head up to the rooftop and wait immediately, but Lystra insisted that we wait. She said that it would look suspicious, and we might as well relax for a while. "Take a shower, have a snack, take a nap, whatever," she had said "just come here at midnight and we'll walk up together."

Lystra's final request was well, predictable. She wanted us to wear black clothes, so that we could hide in the shadows and make a quick escape if necessary. "I'm not sure I trust this yet – we will reveal ourselves later, and hide first, to make sure its safe." I didn't bother pointing out to her that us wearing black would seem suspicious.

I was worn from the afternoon. I didn't like arguing with Lystra – it unnerved me. And then, me breaking down like that . . . well, I'd known that it would happen, but the fact that it happened before Lystra was driving me crazy. She shouldn't have seen my like that – it had troubled her, and it disturbed me that I had made her upset like that.

My mother said that I was protective.

Well, I suppose I was. I always kept all the kids from the orchard away from them, knowing that they would only give harm.

But . . . with Lystra it was different.

I can't explain it – it was like a great big bubble of emotion inside of my chest, wanting to burst . . . but instead it swelled even bigger.

So I didn't argue with Lystra when I could avoid it. When I had to, it popped the bubble, leaving a hole, and making me feel empty inside. But the bubble always swelled again, the next time she spoke to me, or even looked at me with those big, blue eyes . . .

I couldn't tell if she felt this great, warm, bubbly emotion for me too. Could she tell that I felt it? Thoughts of her swirled through my mind day and night.

What would I do in the Hunger Games?

This was why I was so interested in the meeting – if Lystra and I were in a big alliance, maybe I wouldn't have to kill her – maybe the alliance would slowly pick off everyone, and I could protect her in a way so that no one could noticed or hurt her.

The instinct to do so was overwhelming.

So I dressed in black as she requested, and went down the hall to her room at midnight. I didn't even have to knock on her door – it opened the moment I raised my hand. Lystra, with her golden hair shining in the dim light like a beacon of good, surveyed me. Then she nodded and gestured for me to make my way down the hall and up the stairs, to the roof.

We hid in the shadows, not wanting to be seen, but we weren't the only ones with the idea – a shape scuttled past us on the other side of the hall once, clothed in black. I gulped, but moved on, determined to get into this alliance.

Lystra and I reached the roof slowly, and, looking about for a moment, found Mazie and Rayne to be standing in the middle of the garden, where the wind whistled loudest. I knew that if any recorders were placed, no one would catch a word of the conversation. Lystra gestured to a thick grape vine mounted on a wall, and we crept over to it, crouching behind it.

Several long moments passed. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw dark shadows moving across the roof – tributes dressed in black, not wanting to be seen. The night air was crisp and fresh, giving a false sense of freedom. I had the sudden, swift instinct to jump off the roof and fly away from the Capitol's injustice, with Lystra held safely in my arms . . . but I shook it off.

More moments passed, and I wondered if anyone would join Mazie and Rayne, but no one did. Perhaps they'd speak to each other. Perhaps they'd go to their rooms, and we'd have come up here for nothing. I feared the last the most, but I was not disappointed.

"All right," Mazie called to the garden, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the wind. "This is ridiculous. Come out, all of you."

Not a one of us moved. I'm pretty sure none of us breathed.

"Colin Shoemaker," Rayne pointed to a shadow, and instantly it flinched. "Come on out here." A small, fat boy crept from the shadows, sitting down dejectedly and staring at his feet, apparently too shamed to speak.

"Totsie, Echo," Mazie nodded at an apple tree, and two girls reluctantly slipped out and came into the arena. "Carrie, Armando," I recognized the brother and sister from one here. "Elvatoris," The girl from one – with the beautiful dirty blonde hair.

My heart stopped when Rayne looked right into my eyes and said quite clearly, "Tanner, Lystra." I immedietly crept out, but Lystra hesitated. I turned slightly, locking eyes with her, trying to convey a message to her about how important this meeting was. For a moment, I was worried she might not follow me, but she gave a small nod, and we joined the others.

So it went on. One by one, or two by two, all of the tributes joined the rest. Not a one had passed up the opportunity of this meeting. When all had gathered, Mazie spoke.

"Hello one, hello, all," she said with great authority I'd never heard in her before. It seemed Mazie's personality had changed completely "we meet here tonight to discuss and alliance."

"Awfully late, isn't it?" said Carrie Rippet, the sibling of Armando from one.

"Yes, seems suspicious," her brother chimed in.

Mazie and Rayne exchanged a look and laughed "Why, yes, it does," Rayne said simply, and abruptly turned the conversation back again. "Anyway, I must insist for the good of us all that we swear secrecy."

"Secracy?" Carrie cried. There were several murmurs, and I glanced at Lystra to find her face a mask of distrust.

"Why must we swear secrecy?" Lystra asked

"Why, because we cannot tell you anything until you do!" Rayne smiled

"Yes, but why?"

"We cannot tell you that."

This answer left even Lystra stumped, and she fell silent.

"All must swear secrecy or leave," Mazie told us solemnly. "if you break your swear, I promise you the alliance will give you a slow and painful death."

We all shuddered, but swore secrecy in turn. Even Lystra did. I suppose curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?

"So what's this alliance about?" Carrie Rippet asked

"Yes, what?" her brother, Armando chimed in

"Well, we are going places no one has gone before," Mazie said dramatically "We are beginning something we would be killed for, but we are going to die anyway, so why not just do it?"

"Yes, but what is it?" a gruff voice asked. I couldn't place where it came from.

"This alliance is in defiance of the Hunger Games, is of the resistance of the Capitol. Our alliance, before our country, shall lie down our weapons, stare the Capitol in the face, laugh. We shall not kill. We shall all die as the Capitol sees fit, not at each other's hands."

"What do you mean?" a small voice asked, shaking slightly. The idea was so new, so different, and so definitely illegal, it took us several moments to figure out what Mazie meant.

"I mean," Mazie said "to start a rebellion."


	17. Chapter 16

_***All right, this one is from Nich's POV. It's short, but the ending has brought all of the seams together. After reading this chapter, I bet a lot of people will : Read, rate, and message!***_

They were all staring at me, their expressions ranging from disgust to shock to excitement.

"I ask you to join us," I told them, trying to keep my voice steady. I had spoken to crowds much in my life, but when I considered the consequences of this speech, my insides turned to jelly.

"I ask you to join myself and Rayne Issa," I continued "to put an end to the cruel acts of the Capitol. I ask for your help, for now we are the most influential people in Panem. If anyone can start a rebellion, we can." I hadn't told them who I was – that was information for the people in the alliance only, and the tributes before me were still undetermined.

The tributes stayed in dumbfounded silence, but when I offered nothing else, the girl from 12 said,

"But . . . didn't the first rebellion get us here?"

"Yes," I answered, making confidence seep into my voice "and we hate the Capitol for it. Why shouldn't we turn this 'Hunger Games'" I put contempt into those words "their punishment against them, and make it _their_ punishment?"

There was a long moment of confusion, and silence. Then a breathless voice came from the boy from 8, Tomas,

"But . . . won't they kill us?"

I eyed him carefully, and motioned to him. His eyes wide, he stepped forward. I placed my hand on his shoulders.

"Are you scared of dying, Tomas?" I asked.

He glanced about him at the other tributes, and breathlessly nodded.

"Do you think that you will survive the Hunger Games?" I eyed him carefully, willing him to tell me the truth.

He glanced about him again, and nodded once more.

"Good answer." I turned my glance to the other tributes "Tomas is honest. One of us will survive the Hunger Games. We stand here right now, in peace, as friends. How can the Capitol do this to us? If you join my alliance, we shall not kill each other, and live in peace, as friends in the arena. The Capitol may pick us off as they will. But we will – we must resist the Capitol's force, or nothing will ever change."

I looked around at them all, and said quite seriously,

"If we don't, we may all be here again, in different forms, in the 74th Hunger Games." We all shuddered collectively, as if destiny had blew its cold breath on us. "And, if we do not prevail at this moment when we try to resist the Capitol, we swear, in this moment sacred to us all, that we will be back in the 74th Hunger Games – and then – then, my friends, we shall – we _shall_ prevail!"

And all of the tributes, even the ones that obviously didn't trust the alliance, whispered "We swear" at the same moment.

Then we all melted into the shadows, heading back to our rooms, with an unspoken agreement that we would be back the next night.


	18. Chapter 17

_***All right, this one is from Echo Griffensong's POV. Remember, she's the girl who got swept away in the basket after her parents were killed. Read, review, and message me!***_

I had crept away, like the others, into the shadows. While they went to their room, I and another shadow stayed still. When I was sure they were all gone, I crept towards the other shadow, and it towards me.

The moonlight stuck both of our faces and we stopped. A lump formed in my throat and I let out a dry sob.

Here she was.

Here was the face that had drifted in and out of my dreams, tantalizingly out of reach.

Here was my twin sister.

We ran the last few paces, embracing each other and crying. Here she was! My whole being seemed to cry the message out to the universe. Here was my twin!

All of the joy of the universe was in us (what a wonderful word – us!), yet it was evident that all the t we would have to kill each other!

"Oh, sister – dear, dear, Totsie," I sobbed hysterically "What are we going to do?"

She stared at me for a moment, then wiped her tears. "We can't kill each other, can we?"

"No," I wiped my eyed, and gazed at Totsie "Well, I suppose . . ." I laughed slightly, overjoyed at being in her company again. "We'll just join Mazie's alliance, then."

Totsie nodded, then suddenly said in a hard voice, "How dare they? Kill our parents and then . . . us . . . the Capitol is cruel."

I blinked in surprised, but found myself nodding. "I wish there was a way to get revenge."

Totsie looked at me a moment, but nodded at me, a small smile forming on her lips. "What if I told you that there is a way?"

I blinked the tears out of my eyes. "There's a way." It was a simple, surprised statement.

"Yes," Totsie looked about us, and leaned in close. "Mazie isn't who she says she is."

I gasped. "What do you mean?"

"The Mazie that we know is really Nich, daughter of the president. The real Mazie is pretending to be Nich."

I blinked and was silent for a moment. "That's not possible."

Totsie shrugged. "I heard them talking about it. It's true as I am standing before you."

I blinked and smiled. "Then it's too good to be true."

She smiled. "Anyway, the real Mazie, the one pretending to be Nich, can kill the president!"

I gasped for a moment, then nodded slowly "Would she have the chance?"

Totsie laughed "She's posing to be his daughter – she'll be able to manage it."

I nodded slowly. "He deserves to die after all he's done to the people of Panem. People starving while he gourges himself and doesn't try to help . . . and these rotten Games . . . he deserves to die. But will the real Mazie do it?"

Totsie nodded. "I think she is. Word on the street is that her father died in the Hunger Games. That girl probably wants revenge as much as we do."

I nodded with her. "So we just have to find the real Mazie." I blinked, and looked up at Totsie. "But how do we do that?"

Totsie smiled. "We talk to our fake Mazie, the real daughter of the president."


	19. Chapter 18

_***This one is back to Lystra's POV***_

I woke the next morning tired, and with a headache. I got out of bed grumpily, and ate breckfast silently, until Kayton confronted me and Tanner.

"What are you two going to show the Gamemakers today?"

I shrugged. "Knives, I guess."

Tanner said, "I'll build something – like an axe, and then chop something up."

Kayton looked at us a moment, and then smiled. "Just impress them – those scores mean a lot. They reflect you to the whole of Panem."

I shifted nervously, and Tanner said, "Don't worry, Kayton. We'll do fine."

We smiled at each other, and Tanner and I went into the waiting area with the other tributes.

I initially noticed the tense air in the room. It was quite obvious that not everyone thought that Mazie's alliance was a good thing, but some did. Mazie, Rayne, and a few other tributes sat at a table, and other kids like the siblings from two, sat far away from them. Then, the other tributes who were undecided, like me, sat in between them, uneasy.

There was enough electricity in the air to kill someone – if another tribute didn't beat it to it.

Tanner and I sat down at the table in the middle where the tributes from 12 were quietly talking.

"Hey," I said, attempting to be warm. Both acknowledged me with a nod, but did not say anything, or continue their conversation.

One by one, the Gamemakers called us into the room where they would judge us. My heart rate started to speed, as I began to worry about what the other tributes were doing in the room for the Gamemakers. Would I make an impression?

They were to District 10. I resisted the urge to bite my nails, thinking of the impression on Vincent's face if I showed up for the interviews with bitten-down nails.

Then it was my turn. Tanner squeezed my shoulder as I shakily got up and entered the room.

The Gamemakers sat in the hard chairs in the corner, and the stations were open around me. They looked at me a moment, and then turned to the food on a table in the corner, sparing me no other thought.

My first feeling was hurt. Why would they belittle me so?

Next I felt anger. I deserved to be noticed. This was just insulting.

Then I felt again the hate for the Capitol, and support in Mazie's alliance. I looked at them a moment, and considered leaving, but instead, a new idea hit me, and I walked over to the camouflage.

Glancing back at the Gamemakers, the anger flared one final time. I dipped my finger into the camouflage and let instincts took over.

It took the Gamemakers a while to realize what I was doing. They began to mutter to themselves, and I was pleased that I once again had a portion of their attention. As the minutes passed, the muttering became louder, and several Gamemakers were craning their necks, trying to see what I was doing. Soon Gamemakers were calling out to me about a time-sensitive schedule, and I should show them something. I ignored them until, with a flourish, I turned and bowed, careful to still hide what I'd done.

"Thank you for your time," I told them, managing to keep the sarcasm from my voice to make it sound genuine.

Then I turned and walked out of the room. As I neared the door, I heard the loud gasps and yells of surprise from the Gamemakers, but I didn't go back.


	20. Chapter 19

_***Lystra's POV***_

I stomped back to my room, still feeling rebellious and indigent. Somewhere around the time I got in the elevator, heading to floor 11, I realized what I had just done. _"Just impress them," _Kayton had said _"those scores mean a lot. They reflect you to the whole of Panem."_ Well, impress . . . maybe. I could paint really well. Get their attention . . . definitely. Scare them half to death . . . check. But would they score me well? No way . . . I had just signed my death treaty.

But was I sorry?

I honestly can say that I wasn't.

Finally, in my life, it felt good to do something to the Capitol . . . to give them a big old smack in the face. Finally, to scare them – the 'good and kind' leaders of Panem . . . it was a good feeling. It gave me hope.

And it was in that moment that I understood how Mazie felt.

The burning anger inside of me was enough to start a fire . . . the hatred was strong. I felt the small spark that had started when I was starving on the streets, taking care of my father in 11, begin to grow, until it was a forest fire in my body. My skin was alive with it, my eyes glowed with the light of the hate-fire, and I breathed hard, as if smoke tried to escape from me.

It took me several long moments to compose myself. I couldn't go around like this. I didn't want to be the lunatic tribute with no sponsors. I had to get myself together – because if I didn't get sponsors, I would surely die.

The elevator dinged and the door opened to reveal the hallway on floor 11. I blinked at it a moment, and realized where I needed to go. I clicked the button labled '7.' The elevator shot up, and a moment later, I was blinking in the bright lights of Floor Seven.

I hesitated, stepping out, as the elevator disappeared behind me. I looked around at the doors – which one was Mazie's? I was raising my hand to knock on the nearest one when I heard voices coming from further along the hall. Listening carefully, I realized that they were that of the girls from District 10 and 8, Totsie and Echo. Curious, and thinking they might lead me to Mazie, I headed towards the sounds of their voices.

". . .proposition for you," Totsie was saying "I think you'll find it most interesting."

"Interesting?" said a voice. I recognized it as Mazie's. "How so?"

"Well, you see," said Echo's quieter voice "We have a common goal."

"And this is?" Mazie asked. At this point, I was crouched beside the door to the room I assumed was Mazie's.

"We both hate the Capitol. We both want to end its torture – its torment. But we have not done so yet." Totsie answered

"And how do you propose that we do?"

Echo's nervous voice broke in – "We shouldn't discuss this here – it's probably bugged."

In my mind's eye, I could see Mazie's mischievous smile "I have my ways – no bugs in here. Please, sit."

"I think we'll stand, thanks," Totsie said briskly. "Anyway, I propose an assassination."

There was a short pause. "Of course," Mazie said finally, "I had thought of it too. But who shall we assassinate? A gamemaker, perhaps? Or any Capitol person? And how, pray tell, do you propose we accomplish this feat?"

"We wait," Totsie said "for a convenient time. We are always ready, and, when the time comes, we'll know."

"Yes," Mazie said "but we shall be in the arena soon, Totsie, and then soon you, I, and Echo will most likely be dead. Then what?"

Totsie ignored this and continued, "The point is, Mazie, are you willing to go the distance, to assassinate?"

There was no pause, no hesitation in Mazie's voice. "I am."

"Even if it meant losing everything – even your very life?"

Mazie laughed "Already going to lose that, aren't I?"

There was a slight pause before echo spoke : "Even if we wanted to kill your father?"

There was another pause, and when Mazie spoke, her voice had an almost nervous edge. "What are you talking about? My father is dead – died in the Games years ago."

"No he didn't," Echo murmured.

"Listen, Mazie," Totsie said "We know your little secret. We know who you really are."

Who Mazie really was? I pressed my ear to the door, needing to hear more.

"Who I really am?" Mazie was definitely nervous now. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

I heard something slam, and I knew that Totsie had brought her fist on a table. "Time's up, Mazie Skiprose. Or should I say . . . Nich Snow."

My heart stopped. My eyes opened wide. Nich? Mazie? Who was this girl?

I didn't think. I simply pushed open the door and stood before the other tributes gaping at me. I pointed my finger at Mazie – Nich – whoever she was. "You're Nich Snow?"


	21. Chapter 20

_***Lystra's POV***_

The girl that I didn't know anymore blinked at me and slowly nodded. "Yes, it's true. I am Nich."

"W-w-w-what are you doing here?" I sputtered, an image of Nich last night, cleverly disguised as Mazie, speaking to the tributes on the roof "You – you _can't_ be Nich!"

"I assure you, I am," she told me.

"But why . . . why do you want to start a rebellion?"

She looked at me for a moment. "I am guessing that, because you are here, Lystra, that you too wish to start a rebellion."

I nodded slightly, a sharp incline of my head.

"Why?" Mazie – Nich asked.

I began to shrug, but I stopped. "Because I hate the Capitol. I hate what they do."

Nich's eyes – identical to those of the Mazie I saw on the television, bored into me. "When did you first realize this."

I opened my mouth to say 'when you spoke,' but I stopped myself again, and I touched the golden apple necklace around my neck. A picture of Estella, small and ragged, and starving to death, appeared in my mind. I took a deep breath and whispered, "I made a friend."

Nich nodded, apparently happy with my answer. "'I made a friend,' " she repeated. She stared at me a moment. "I'm guessing that friend was young Estella Mason – the girl you volunteered for?"

I nodded breathlessly, flushed and sad, thinking of her and her brother and the apple I had given her and our song. And how that act had brought me here . . . and how that act would get her here next year, and her brother too, eventually.

"I, too, made a friend," Nich said "her name was – is, I mean, Mazie Skiprose. My friend, Mazie, is much like yours, Estella. Both are . . . less capable than we. Both of us took their place. You and, Lystra, are very much alike."

"But you're Snow's daughter!" I hissed, jerking myself out of the spell that Nich's words had put me in. "How can you be so treacherous? How . . . how can you hate your father?" My eyes spilled slightly with tears. There had once been a time when I had thought that I hated my father. But then I had not cried either. I was different now.

Nich stared at me a moment, and her own eyes filled. "That's the thing, Lystra. I don't love him. He is no father to me. He doesn't even care about me – he cares little about my brother too, and only the smidge he does is because my brother will be President. My father is no President – he is a tyrant, and he intends to pass his crown to my brother, and still be in control while old and in his bed.

"You see what he does to his people – he doesn't care about the Capitol people, either. He only needs their support. Little support too – all they care about is their makeup. He kills the people in the Districts for amusement and sport and terror – all for a reminder of the past. He is evil and cruel, and I have no love for him.

"But he is still my father, and I cannot make myself hate him either."

I nodded at Nich slowly "But you would allow him to be assassinated?"

Nich was silent for a long while. "I believe my father was once a good man. I don't know what made him as he is now, but once he must have been good. Now he is evil, nasty, and cruel. He only causes pain and suffering in Panem." She paused for a long moment. "He must die eventually – we all do. For some, sooner is better than later . . . perhaps this is one of those times." Nich blinked back tears and continued, "I must only trust that in whatever lies beyond, he is a better person – the person he was before."

I felt so bad for Nich in that moment that I placed my hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She nodded to me and didn't shrug it off.

"I believe you," I whispered. She nodded again, and turned to Echo and Totsie, who had been completely silent, watching up carefully.

"I understand Lystra's motives, for they are my own. But what I do not understand are yours."

Totsie blinked at us, and then dully told us a story of attempted, escape, death, and loss – the story of her separation with her sister. When it was over, my heart had a heavy feel in it, and I felt it could fall out of me and onto the floor of the room.

"I'm sorry," I said finally.

"We are together now," Echo said softly "and our parents with us forever. There is nothing for you to be sorry about."

"Well," Nich said after a long moment. "All four of us have our motives, strong and solid. Now, tell me your idea, Totsie."

Totsie's eyes sparkled with mischief momentarily. "Why, we have the real Mazie Skiprose assassinate the president, under disguise as you."

I glanced at Nich, scared she would begin to cry, but she only swallowed a lump in her throat and said, "I shall contact her immedietly."

With that, Totsie and Echo left, leaving me alone with Nich. I looked at her. We had a common understanding now, but I still felt as if I didn't know the girl before me. "Nich?" I asked after a long moment.

"Yes?" she asked

"I drew with camouflage for the Gamemakers today."

"Was it beautiful?"

"Oh, yes, very beautiful. Filled with joy, sadness, and hope."

"Did they enjoy it?"

"Oh, I very much hope so. It was so extremely beautiful."

"What did you draw, Lystra?" Nich asked.

I paused, glancing at her. "The end of Panem and the beginning of a new country."

"How so?"

I took a deep breath. "The assassination of a president."

Mazie looked at me sharply. "My father?"

I took another deep breath and forced myself to meet her eyes. "No. Your brother."


	22. Chapter 21

_***Tanner's POV***_

The food was getting cold. We all sat waiting for Lystra, but she wasn't showing up. I blinked at everyone for a moment, then said,

"Well, I suppose she's not coming."

And, with that, we began to eat. The food, as usual, was delicious, but I didn't pay much attention to the taste. My mind was with Lystra. Where was she? What had she done for the Gamemakers? Could it really have been that bad?

I shivered slightly, because I knew it could have been.

It had taken awhile for my turn with the Gamemakers, and when I was walking in, I found the camouflage station blocked off, and something on the floor covered up. Out of curiosity, I had stepped towards it, but the Gamemakers had barked at me, and I had stepped back. They had seemed pretty jumpy.

Then I had examined the stations around me, thinking of what I should do. I expected the Gamemakers to be watching me like hawks, but instead, not an eye was on me. I kept glancing at them, hoping to find them watching, but they were too busy whispering to care about me. I found it just as insulting as Lystra had (I figured that out later). So insulted that I simply left, without doing anything for them.

The most hilarious and infuriating part was that they hadn't even noticed I was leaving. How long it took them to figure it out I don't know. I didn't stay and watch.

I had come back up to floor 11, wanting to talk to Lystra (odd how that made me so nervous), but she hadn't been there. Now, at dinner, she was still absent. I was more worried about her than you could imagine.

As the meal concluded, Kayton began to wring her hands, and Emerald checked her clock, and shared a gaze with Vincent. "Well," Emerald said "we'll just have to see what the Gamemakers think without her."

And so we sat down in front of the television, waiting for it to light up with the Capitol seal and play the anthem. I watched, wide eyed, and the results were played before me. They were done on a scale of 1 (being the worst) to 12 (being the best).

_***Because so many of these tributes are submitted from people online, I'm putting all of the scores below according to district, girl first***_

Elvatorix Fox – 6

Colin Shoemaker – 3

Carrie Rippet – 11

Armondo Rippet – 10

Luna Garcia – 5

Nicholas Atom – 4

Rayne Issa – 9

Peter Sumlen – 2

Illana Rainflower – 6

Percy Stein – 5

Fallen Surk – 3

Steven Kent – 5

Mazie Skiprose (aka Nich ;) – 11

Julius Adams – 4

Totsie Griffensong – 7

Tomas Bard – 4

Salena Flamel – 5

Carter James – 2

Echo Griffensong – 6

Satch Collins – 7

Lystra Fay Gull – 12

Tanner Lawson – 11

Lillibet Haldson – 8

Spade – 12

_***Back to Tanner's POV***_

I stared at the screen as it went black. I had gotten an 11? How? I had walked out on the Gamemakers – I should have gotten a zero, not an 11! And what had Lystra done to get a twelve – she must have gone crazy with the knives! I looked down at the numbers I'd scrawled on a page of Lystra's notebooks. That homeless boy from twelve that dug graves – Spade – he'd gotten a 12 too . . . interesting . . .

And the siblings from two had gotten an 11 and a 10 . . . and Mazie too had gotten an eleven . . . and Rayne had gotten a nine . . . I wanted Mazie and Rayne as allies, but I couldn't leave Lystra – not for the world. Never.

Maybe Spade would be a good ally, too.

I nodded at the paper once, and looked at Emerald, Vincent, and everybody else. They congratulated me on my eleven, and I smiled. Then I went to my bedroom, waiting until the building was quiet, and it was midnight once more. And then, praying that she would be there, and dressed in black, I headed to Lystra's room, to go with her to another meeting with Mazie.

I had to convince her to join Mazie's alliance. Surely now she saw why we had to.

If we didn't, we'd die.

Well, we'd probably die anyway.

But at least this way we'll die for a cause.


	23. Chapter 22

_***Lystra's POV***_

Tanner came into my room just after I had dressed in black. We both stood, motionless, the moment we saw the other. Finally, we both burst out,

"How did you get that score?"

We both blushed and shuffled our feet slightly, and I tried to figure out why I was so embarrised. "Umm . . . you first," Tanner told me.

"No, you," I blushed deeper, and glanced at me restless feet. _Stop moving!_ I told them, but they didn't listen.

"No, really," Tanner said "I insist."

Blushing deeper, I forced myself to look at him in the eye and ask clearly, "How did you get that score – 11 – that's huge, Tanner!" I attempted a smile, but it was empty.

"Not really," he shrugged, still looking embarrassed. "You got a 12, after all."

My empty smile faded as I remembered the picture. "Oh, yeah. What'd you do, Tanner – to get an eleven?"

He looked directly at his feet as he said, "Nothing. They wouldn't even look at me, so I just left. I don't know how long it took them to figure out I was gone. Maybe they thought I did something, and just gave me the eleven. Anyway," he shook himself and looked at me "what'd you do?"

"Oh, Tanner," the tears came to my eyes as I remembered Nich's shocked reaction, her sadness and despair, when I had told her. I lowered my voice so that it would be covered by the air conditioning unit to any bugs. "I drew a drawing – beautiful. It showed a future picture – of hope, happiness, and sorrow. It was the assassination of a president."

Tanner's eyes were like a hawk's, on my face. "The President Snow?"

I hesitated. "No. His son."

Tanner inhaled sharply. "Lystra, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"More," I said glumly "Listen."

And I told him of how Nich was pretending to be Mazie, and Mazie Nich, and how Totsie and Echo were twins. When I had finished, he smaked his head with his hand. "We're all in so much trouble," he moaned. "What are we doing?"

"What are we doing?" I repeated, and I thought for a moment, trying to find a way to explain it to him. "You know . . . when you feel real hatred . . . how it tingles, starting with a single spark, and spreading? That's what we've started. It's a real small spark, and easily will go out . . . but it's still there. Always. And one day, like Mazie – Nich, I mean, said, We will come back in fifty years and make the spark bigger . . . so that all may see . . . and then, the spark will catch and grow . . . and we will have a full forest fire. And my drawing may come true."

Tanner nodded at me, and I saw something spark in his eyes . . . though the word that I would use was not rebellious, but . . . loving?

It was gone in a moment, and Tanner was the same. I didn't mention it to him, and I tried to forget it myself.

"Shall we go up?" Tanner asked, holding out his arm in imitation of the Capitol people. Snorting with laughter, and grabbed it and we headed up onto the roof.

The tributes – all of them, were already gathered in the clearing we had been in the night before. All were milling about awkwardly except for Rayne and Nich in the center. When Nich caught sight of us, she raised a hand in greeting, which I returned, but did not join her.

"Friends," Nich called "and fellow tributes, tonight is the night that you decide what side you're on. I hope you choose correctly. Remember, your life, and other lives, hang in the balance." Nich made it sound as though she was speaking of other tributes, but I knew she was also referring to her decision about which side she was on : against her father. This decision would end her father's life, and most likely her own.

"Who will stand with me?" Nich asked, moving to half the clearing. The other tributes stayed on the other half. Then Rayne, who was still in the middle, spoke.

"What is the point," Rayne called out "to live without purpose, only to know that you are to kill a friend, or die at the hands of one? I say no! I choose to stay with Mazie, and I pledge that I shall be forever peaceful, and shall never harm a one of you if I may avoid it."

Murmurs came from the tributes as Rayne crossed over and stood with Nich. I knew that Tanner and I would join her in a moment, but, for now, we waited.

The girl from 12 stepped over, saying only, "This is wrong. My mother told me to stand up for what I believe in. She would be proud."

The girl from 3 passed over without comment.

The boy from 5 stood in the middle. "I'm sorry," he addressed all of the tributes. I don't want to be a career, or be apart of your alliance, Mazie. Too many risks." He shook his head, and I recognized my own doubts in him. "And I don't want to get too attached to any of you – it will only make this harder. Good night." And he was gone.

The boy from 8 joined the alliance.

The girl from 9 wanted to be a loaner.

The boy from 6 joined the alliance

The boy from 7 joined the alliance.

The boy from 9 wanted to be a loaner.

The boy from 10 wanted to be a loaner.

Then the siblings from 2 stood up.

"We are claiming our right as people of District 2 as Careers," the girl said, flashing a smile. "and I guarantee you, Mazie, you will regret that you ever thought of this . . . little alliance." Her brother laughed cruelly.

The girl form one stepped up to join them. "And I join you." They welcomed her, and stepped out of the way."

The boy from one glanced at the other tribute from his district and chose to be a loaner.

The girl from six chose to be a loaner.

The boy from four joined the alliance.

The boy from three said that he wasn't sure, and for now he would be a loaner.

The boy from nine chose to be a loaner.

And then, left, was Spade, Tanner, and myself. Tanner and I nodded to Spade to go first, and he stepped forward, glancing at each alliance, and then the group of loaners. I knew that all wanted him to join them, for he had gotten a 12, but he was so . . . different . . . none dared speak up.

"I join . . ." Spade spoke for the first time, and his voice was gravely and scratchy "I will join Mazie, if she will have me."

Nich smiled genuinely at him. "Of course I will have you, Spade." She shook his hand "Welcome."

Tanner and I glanced at each other, and he stepped forward first.

"The Capitol is evil. They do not deserve what they have. We do. So here's to a new beginning." And he joined Nich.

I slowly stepped forward, and the air seemed to chill. I felt my facial expression change, and I knew the face that I used as a painter was on it. I looked at each tribute. I raised my arms. "Friends, all of you are friends. Please don't make me kill you. Because, believe me," I smiled evily "if we meet, you will not survive the encounter." I let my arms fall to my side. "May we be friends once more when we meet again, as fellow young tributes, in 50 years."

And, with unspoken agreement, we departed once more. All those in Nich's alliance knew to come back again the next night – the final night.


	24. Chapter 23

_***Lystra's POV***_

That night, I dreamed vividly.

It began with a dream of Estella. She gazed at me a moment, and then beside her, where her brother, Issac, chomped on an apple. Then she glanced back at me, meeting my eyes, which teared up visibly. "Thank you," she whispered.

Then the dream changed. Nich, looking about 8 or 9 was sitting beside her brother, studying him. "Brother, do you ever regret being father's son?"

He blinked at her, looking confused. "Regret? There's no better dad in the world."

Nich blinked at him several times before lowering her head, and I knew she didn't agree. "What if we were born in the Districts?"

Nich's brother laughed "We couldn't be born in the district – bad people are born in the districts. We aren't bad people."

Nich studied him. "Do you ever wonder if we could have dealt with the rebels differently?"

He shrugged. "No. Why?" He squinted at her. "Do you doubt father?"

"Doubt him?" Nich's laugh was nervous "Why would I do that?"

Nich's brother didn't laugh, and, after a moment, Nich said, "Do you want to be President one day?"

Nich's brother puffed out his chest proudly. "Yes. I want to be just like Father."

Nich flinched as though she had been slapped. "Don't say that," she murmured.

He studied her quizzically for a moment. "Why would you say that?"

Nich had no answer, and didn't reply. After a few moments, she said, "Just be careful, okay?" and she walked away.

The dream changed, and I was standing in deep water with a strong current. It took all my strength not to fall over. Before me where two blue-white, almost see-through figures. Ghosts.

One was a woman with dark brown hair and deep caramel eyes that matched her skin. The other was a man with dark black hair and deep brown eyes and light orange skin. His nose was large, hers small. His eyes small, hers large. They looked completely different, but both seemed to fit together. They also seemed familiar. It took me a few moments, but I realized why.

They looked like Totsie and Echo.

They looked at me sadly, and I knew that they were Totsie and Echo's parents. The ones that had died trying to escape the iron fist of the Capitol. They stared at me with empty eyes.

"Protect our daughters," they said in unison, ghostly voices that were like wind in the trees. "Please."

"I will," I breathlessly told them "I will. I promise – with my life." But I knew that, in the end, I would not be able to save them from the Capitol.

The dream changed again, and I was in the arena, running, running . . . from the Capitol. I didn't dare look behind me, because I knew I would become scared. I just kept running. I had to make it – had to get away . . .

Something grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back.

I screamed and fought, but couldn't get away . . .

Then . . . endless sleep . . .


	25. Chapter 24

_***Lystra Fay Gull's POV. And, yes, I know that later on the names aren't their actual names – but they are as Katniss knew them. Also, yes, I made up some names due to the fact that so many were unknown to Katniss, therefore unknown to us. Lastly, I know – 24**__**th**__** Hunger Games, chapter 24...I made it good because of that ;)***_

I woke with a jolt, sweaty, crying, and screaming. Warm sunlight streamed through the window, providing a false sense of safety. I curled into a ball in my bed, terrified by the dreams. They kept flashing through my mind, with the pictures. I cried for a long time, curled into a ball.

Then I got up, moving with instinct to my pencils and papers. I picked up my pencil, and started drawing . . .

Again the sensation gripped me where nothing mattered by shading, making small lines, long lines, curves, and dynamics. Even though I couldn't see the picture, it was all I cared about.

Part of me was conscious of my door opening, but of course, it wasn't important. Only when I put down my pencil did I realize that Tanner was standing behind me.

"Lystra," words failed him as he gazed upon the drawings, and I followed his gaze onto it.

I had drawn us.

But they . . . weren't us.

They were different people that were definetly us.

It was us as we would be in 50 years, in a new Hunger Games – in the 74th Hunger Games. It was incredibly creepy – seeing someone and knowing that they are _you._ I shivered slightly.

Spade – the homeless boy from 12 – his counterpart was a burly boy. The name underneath said, 'Thresh.'

Echo had deep, dark skin and short black hair. She was extremely young – probably about 12, and was by far the youngest. The name underneath said, 'Rue.'

Nich had deep red hair and a long, snout-like face, deeply freckled and tanned. The name underneath said, 'Foxface.'

Totsie had deep brown hair and matching eyes, and her name was, 'Marietta'

The girl from 1 with the blonde hair looked very much similar, except now her green eyes were blue. The name read, 'Glimmer.'

Armondo Rippet was hulky and huge, and his expression was mean, rude, and relentless. 'Cato' was the name underneath.

Carrie Rippet was burly girl with blonde hair and a mean, hardened expression. To me, she seemed unchanged. The name underneath was 'Clove.'

Rayne

Tanner's skin was pale, and his hair a dirty blonde. His eyes were light, and intense. The name said, 'Peeta Mellark'

And me.

My hair was long and brown, my face hard and strong, eyes determined, sad, and angry. I was tall and lean, and held a bow and arrow in my hands. My skin was deeply tanned. I was determined, strong, hateful, and mourning. I held hands with the boy next to me – Peeta Mallark/Tanner.

The name underneath it said :

Katniss Everdeen.

That day was devoted entirely to getting ready for the interviews. Emerald took me through hours of lectures on manners, posture, poise, and charm. When it was finally over, I felt my head might burst. We broke for a quite lunch. During the meal, I tried several times to meet Tanner's eyes, but he wouldn't. I wondered what was bothering him – but I knew what it was, deep down inside.

It was the fact that our counterparts were holding hands.

I deeply regretted drawing that part – but I always lost control when I drew. It wasn't my fault. All the same, I felt bad, and hoped that Tanner would look past this, and we could go back to our relationship – as friends. I wanted it so much . . .

. . . didn't I? I didn't love Tanner . . .

. . . did I? And Tanner most certainly didn't love me . . .

. . . or did he?

My mind was whirling and my heart was racing. I couldn't eat, and only played with my food until the meal was over and I was joining Kayton for more training.

Kayton left me to my sad brooding for a long while, studying me. Finally, she said, "What angle do you want to play?"

Shocked out of my trance, I jumped. "Angle?"

"Yes, you're angle – what shall the Capitol think of your personality? Funny? Angry? Strong? Weak? What?"

I looked at Kayton for a moment, considering my options. But, suddenly, the answer was obvious. "No angle," I told her. "I'll . . . just be myself."

Kayton nodded slowly. "This is the approach I used," she said "But if you are to use it, you must ask yourself : who are you?"

"I am . . ." I hesitated, thinking. Who was I?

I wasn't truly sure for a moment. I felt as though I had several personalities.

Was I Lystra the Fay?

Was I the golden apple?

Or was I Katniss Everdeen?

Who was Lystra Fay Gull?

It took me a long moment before I could answer Kayton.

"I am Lystra Fay Gull," I told her "Named for Lystra the Fay, the ender of a tyrant. The golden apple – the causer of trouble. Katniss Everdeen – the girl not born yet, who, I promise you, will end this once and for all. I am Lystra Fay Gull. I am relentless, angry, and strong. I am sad, confident, and joyous. I am never going to give up. I am . . ." I grinned here, being honest with Kayton. "extremely tired. But most of all . . . I am an artist."

Kayton blinked at me, and then smiled. "Good – you know who you are. I need tell you no more. You are dismissed." I nodded and stood up, walking away, before Kayton called out,

"And Lystra?" I turned, eyebrow raised. "Go take a nap."


	26. Chapter 25

_***Lystra's POV. And yes, Viola is Ceaser's mother. Yes, I stole a line from the Hunger Games in here too, for all of you people that pay really close attention***_

The spotlights were hot on my face as I walked out onto the stage. The sound of the crowds screaming my name threatened to burst my ears. I smiled nervously, remembering to act like myself, but remembering what Vincent had said, and hurried to my seat. Once there, Tanner smiled at me reassuringly, and whispered,

"You look beautiful."

And I did. I was wearing a floor-length golden silk gown with a three-foot train. I had dark brown contacts in, to match the brown circle and line designs painted on all of my visible skin. My hair was brushed to a silk and lay flat on my back. Other than the designs, my only makeup was the dark outline on my eyes. Vincent was still going with the Golden Apple look, but now it was more mature.

I smiled at him, and I felt radiant, carrying the knowledge inside me that I knew who I was. "Vincent is a genius," I told him. Then we both fell silent as Viola Flickerman called the girl from 1 – Elvatorix Fox up for her three minute interview.

I felt confident as I watch Elvatoix smile charmingly at Viola and the crowd. I watch Carrie Rippet swear that she'll win, and her sibling does the same. When asked about her sibling, Carrie simply smiled and said, "What sibling?"

The kids from three were complete nerds, chatting with Viola about some sort of new wiring for the televisions for better picture and reception.

In 4, Rayne is cool, confident, and proud. Her role was so convincing, I found myself believing that she would win. In 5, the girl is quiet and shy, but cute in a way, too. Her fellow tribute from her district was playing the nerd thing.

In 6, the girl was joking, smiling. The boy was sly, like a fox.

Nich (or, as Viola thought of her, Mazie) was playing confident and smooth, like Rayne, and had quite the same effect.

"So, Mazie, we have word here that your father was in the Hunger Games a few years back?"

"Yeah," Nich said, nodding "I don't remember him much, but Mom has told me and my sister, Walie, enough to make me feel like I know him."

There was a sigh of sympathy from the crowd, and Viola patted Nich's lap. "Ah, well, what can you do?"

"Nothing," Nich sighed.

"So tell me about your sister."

"She loves singing, and she's so small and delicate and adorable." Nich smiled slightly "You just want to pick her up and hug her all day long."

"And what would you have her know right now?"

Nich met the cameras defiantly "I would tell her that Mazie will be home soon. Do not worry. And . . . that a friend is helping."

Nich's cool and confident act was so convincing, Viola's next question took me a moment to decipher.

"So, Mazie, I hear you're setting up a huge alliance?"

My first thought was, _Oh my God, who told?_ I looked around and noticed that Carrie and Armondo Rippet looked extremely pleased with themselves. I felt a wave of hot anger that I quickly concealed. This game was about stealth. But how much had they told?

"Oh yes, Violia," Nich winked at the interviewer. "I'm afraid that was supposed to be a secret – a surprise for Panem when we got in the arena," she sighed dramatically "but, apparently, someone just couldn't wait." I thought I saw her eyes flicker to Carrie and Armondo, but it was gone in a moment.

"So . . . Mazie," Viola leaned in slightly. "We got a tip-off from one of the tributes you invited to join your alliance," she winked "and that's how we knew about it. They mentioned it was a special alliance, but they said no more. So . . . tell us everything . . ."

Nich sighed again. "That's just the thing, Viola. I _can't_ tell you. It's a surprise. You know more than you should all ready."

"And that's the time," Viola said "Well, we'll see you in the arena, Mazie. Good luck."

"Thanks, Viola," Nich grinned "but I won't need it."

The boy from 7, Julius, was charming.

Totsie was sweet, smiling innocently at the crowd.

The boy from 8, Tomas, was a music-lover and passionate.

The girl from 9, Salena, was confident and tough.

The boy from 9, Carter, was quiet and deadly.

Echo began sweetly, like Totsie, but shocked the whole of Panem with her answer to,

"So, Echo, tell us about your past."

Echo froze up and glanced at Totsie. All the cameras moved to Totsie, who nodded slightly at Echo. Then the cameras were back at Echo as she said,

"I used to live in District 8."

Loud gasps and yells came from the crowd, and Viola calmed them down. "How so?" she asked Echo simply.

"My parents were killed by gun in the middle of the river," Echo explained carefully. "My twin sister hid in the reeds, but my mother was carrying me . . . in a basket. When she fell," Echo's voice was thick with emotion, and tears were pilling in her eyes. "The basket that I was in was carried off in the current." She closed her eyes tightly "I was terrified," she whispered "I still remember every detail."

The people in the audience gasped and wailed in sympathy. Viola patted Echo's lap comfortingly. "And did your sister survive?"

Echo nodded, face in her hands. "That she did. She is still part of District 8."

"Well then," Viola smiled happily to the crowd. "There is still a chance for a happy reunion, then! If you win the games, I'm sure that the President will insist it be broadcasted on television." The entire crowd roared their approval at this, but Echo's face was still in her hands. When all was quiet once more, Echo said in a quiet voice,

"Yes, I would like that, Viola. But it can't be."

"What are you talking about?" Viola asked, grinning her head off "You can win this thing, Echo! You're determined, and that will make you win!"

"But if I win, I will never see my sister again," Echo sobbed, hands clamping more tightly on her face

"But why ever not?" Viola asked, and the crowd went deadly silent as Echo lifted her face.

"Because she's here with me."

Cameras went to Totsie's face as Echo's timer went off, though none could hear it over the roaring of the crowd. Totsie took one look at the cameras, and went to her sister, helping her up and hugging her so that she faced away from the audience. Totsie flashed a sad smile at the audience and helped her sister to her seat, going back to hers in silence, a single tear down her cheek.

When the audience cooled down, Satch Collins from 10 came up, being loud and angry about everything.

Everyone was playing an angle – doing something to make an impression. I knew each of them, and knew that they would never really act like that – I mean, Echo crying? Please.

But I wasn't playing an angle.

_***Tanner's POV***_

I watched Lystra walk up to Viola, and my stomach twisted. She was so beautiful in that dress . . . and so proud and confident. I had never seen her like this before, and I liked it. My mind flashed to the morning before when she'd drawn the future tributes – us . . . in 50 years . . . in another life. I shivered. It had been creepy.

And then . . . we had been holding hands. It was such a feeling – wondering if she might actually like me like I liked her . . . but what if she didn't?

I watched as she sat down by Viola. She was so beautiful, golden, graceful . . .

"So, Lystra, tell us about your home life."

Lystra smiled easily at Viola "Well, at home, it's just me and my dad, you know? My mom died from a concussion, falling from a tree in the fields. She had gone back too soon after my birth – still off balance, you know." Lystra shook her head in a disappointed way. "Only too common a story – we needed the money, you see, to feed me, the baby."

Viola sighed dramatically. "Ah, yes. Last year a tribute told me the same story."

Lystra nodded. "Yes. Too, too, common. After Mother's death, I kind of grew apart from my father. I regret that now. Dad, I'm sorry. I want you to know . . . I love you. I hope to be home soon."

"And what about that little girl you volunteered for?" Viola asked "Estella Mason, I believe?"

Lystra nodded again. "Yes, Estella. She is the sweetest little girl you'll ever meet. She's an orphan, you see, and doesn't get enough to eat. Occasionally, I'll slip her an apple – she loves apples as much as she loves her brother, Issac. And she loves to sing. Yes, I'll sing with her on those occasions. Together, we make quite the duet. Keep singing, Estella!" I thought I saw a glint of mischief in Lystra's eyes, but I didn't understand it, so I ignored it.

"Want to give a shout-out to anyone else?" Viola asked

"Oh, Cierra and Michelle. I work with them in the fields a lot. Keep up the good work now, girls." I smiled slightly. I knew that Cierra and Michelle were two of the girls that, like Lystra, snuck into the fields at night to illegally sell foods.

"Anyone else?" Viola asked

"Oh, I see Tanner around quite a bit," Lystra glanced at me, and we grinned at each other. Then, Lystra was suddenly solemn as she said, "And his little sister, Katherine."

"Tell us what you think of Katherine."

"Well, she doesn't really like 'Katherine. She prefers Kathi. And she's a really sweet girl – a dancer. She's so innocent . . . I talked to her a lot. She introduced me to Tanner the first time." I smiled genuinely. She had described my sister perfectly.

"So what do you think you should tell Kathi right now?" Viola asked. I leaned forward in my seat slightly, curious to hear Lystra's response.

"That I feel really bad for her. She's either losing her brother or her friend." Lystra took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. "And maybe even both."

_***Lystra's POV***_

My timer went off and I joined Tanner back at our seats. I patted his back as he got up and sat by Viola.

"So, Tanner," Viola smiled "We've had quite a bit of drama tonight. Do you have anything to add to it?"

"Well," Tanner looked down "I think I do, Viola."

"Oh, what now?" Viola said, throwing her hands up in an agitated manner, but everyone could tell she was amused.

"Well," Tanner said "um . . ." He looked very uncomfortable, wringing her hands. "A girl . . ."

"Ooooh!" Viola squealed along with the rest of the crowd "A girl? Ooooh, Tanner, give us _all _the details!"

Tanner lowered his head more "It's nothing really. I . . . I never even worked up the courage to tell her."

"Never?" Viola sounded disappointed. "Well you can tell her now – on live television!" There were many dramatic sighs from the crowd, and someone called out loudly, "How romantic!"

"W-w-well," Tanner stammered "I-I-I c-c-can't."

"Why not?" demanded Viola, an edge of excitement creeping into her voice

"B-b-because I have to tell her to her face . . . not like this."

"Oooh," Viola sighed "how romantic. So you'll just have to win, and then you can tell her."

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning won't help."

"Why not?" Viola seemed to be using this line a lot.

Tanner's head was lower than ever, and his hands gripped the side of the chair, almost white. His voice was barely audible as he stammered, "Because . . . because . . . I brought her here with me."

_***Nich's POV***_

I could see Lystra's blush magnified by the cameras everywhere, and the crowd, already exhausted from an emotional night, was screaming and crying, gazing between Tanner and Lystra with angry faces. I felt sympathy for both of them as Lystra gazed at the floor for a long moment, and then at Tanner. Their eyes met just as Tanner's timer rang, and he headed back to her. He sat beside her, and they sat stone-faced, small tears in their eyes, sad, tragic, but welcoming.

I couldn't really tell how Lystra was feeling at the moment, but I had already known that Tanner loved her with all his heart for a long time now. I only hoped that Lystra loved him enough back.

Lillibet from 12 went up, and, stammering, sent greetings home to the family that "she had never loved enough." It was touching and all, but only worked the crowd up more.

Then, lastly, Spade told the entire audience that he missed his mother. When Viola asked him about his mother, he only said, "She is pretty. She says I look nothing like my father."

"When did you last see your mother?" Viola asked him gently

"Last night," Spade said gruffly

"She's here in the Capitol?" Viola sounded anxious for a happy ending, but she wasn't going to get one.

"No," Spade said. "She's with me. Always."

"Then she's here?" Viola pressed. Silly woman. I understood what Spade meant completely.

"No."

"Then whatever do you mean?" The silly woman was confused. "You said you last saw her last night."

"Yes." He didn't speak for a long moment. "She's there in my dreams."

At this, the audience lost it, wailing and crying for poor, poor homeless Spade, whose mother was only in his dreams. And for the star crossed lovers, Tanner and Lystra. And for the separated twins, Totsie and Echo. And for the poor, doomed girl, Mazie, whose father was in the Games too. The girl trying to make a secret alliance to surprise the Capitol.

When all the tributes stood for the anthem, you couldn't even hear it. I smiled briefly at Lystra, and we both had the same thought :

_What trouble we shall cause, and what fun we shall have!_

Then the lights went out, and all was black. The tributes exited the stage, listening to the still crying and roaring audience.


	27. Chapter 26

_***Lystra's POV***_

That night, I crept up to the roof without Tanner. I knew he'd understand – it'd been a rough day for the two of us. First the drawing, and then the confession of love that had shook the Capitol almost as much as it had me. I wasn't sure if what Tanner had said was an act, or if it was real. And I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

So it was better if I just walked up there alone.

Awaiting us on the roof tonight was not only Nich, our leader with unspoken agreement, but the real Mazie Skiprose. There was much muttering and gasps of surprise and confusion when the tributes saw Mazie (who appeared to be Nich). However, our trust was so confident in Nich, no one said anything until Nich called the meeting to a start.

"Welcome, members of the alliance!" called Nich. We all applauded slightly, smiling nervously at each other. "Are all present and accounted for?" Nich asked. We looked around at everyone and nodded.

"Good, good," Nich smiled at us. "We have a few matters of business tonight. To begin, if you will, I would like for each of you to come up here and introduce yourself – by name, by district, by talent, and by what possessed you to join this alliance. We'll start with Luna."

A girl with white-blonde hair stood up, and walked over to the center. I noticed her wide blue eyes and that she seemed rather distant behind her thick glasses. "Hi. I'm Luna Garcia. District 3. I'm smart. I joined because it is right." Her voice seemed airy and she drifted back to her spot.

A short, brown haired, be-freckled boy with thick glasses stepped up. He was obviously a nerd. "Umm . . . hi," his voice had an almost nasally tint to it. "I'm Nicholas Atom from . . . uh . . . 3 . . . I . . . I'm an . . . uh . . . inventor . . . I joined . . . because . . . because it sounds . . . better."

He stepped back, and Rayne took his place, and confident and reassuring smile fixed in place. "Hey, I'm Rayne Issa," she grinned "District 4. I fight with a dagger or shortsword and I joined because it sounds fun." She grinned before a short, weak-looking boy stepped forward.

"Steven Kent," he said, so fast, he tripped over his own words "District 7. I . . . used to set traps to catch mice for food. I had this idea . . . maybe it could be made for humans? Anyway, I joined because," he shook his head "because it was the only thing to do."

All eyes turned to Nich, expecting her to go next, but she only nodded at the boy from 7, who staggered up, taken by surprise.

"I'm Julius Adams," he said, his charming good looks immediately making everyone comfortable again. "District 7. I can talk my way out of any situation, and, if I need to, I know some pressure points that could knock a man out for days. I joined because . . . he looked at them all "I couldn't kill you. Never."

After a moment, Totsie took his place, smiling at us "Totsie Griffensong, District 8. I can make a meal out of anything, and kill it too. I'm not sure if this method would work on Carreers, but," she gave a hooting laugh "worth a try, eh?" we all chuckled slightly. "Anyway, I joined because Echo and I . . . well, you'll find out later, I'm guessing." She looked at Nich, who nodded.

The boy from 8 took Totsie's place. "Tomas Bard," he said, shaking his red hair from his eyes. "District 8. I fight with swords, and pretty much suck at everything else. I joined because Totsie joined." Totsie turned bright red at this, but Tomas only said, "It's not like we're interested in each other or anything," he shrugged. "Totsie's been my sis ever since she washed up in 8."

Echo took his place. "Echo Griffensong. District 10. I'm pretty handy with a knife, but I kinda figured out the bow and arrows in training, so I'm good." She shrugged "You'll find out why I joined later (with Totsie's explanation)."

Noticing it was my turn, I stepped forward. "Lystra Fay Gull. District 11. I throw knives," I grinned here "have for years. I can take a man down with a single knife – thrown or stabbed. I can run and climb pretty well too. I joined because . . . because . . ." I didn't know how to explain it, so I simply said, "I hate the Capitol, and I have made it my life . . . or rather, plural : _lives'_ mission to end the Capitol."

They stared at me a moment, and Tanner rescued me by taking my place. "Tanner Lawson. District 11. I can throw things, lift things, and climb and run. I joined because . . ." he met my eyes, asking a silent question : _Can I be honest?_ I inclined my head, my breath catching in my throat. "Because I can't kill the girl I love."

I looked down, red-faced. So he was serious. But how did I feel? My emotions were so mixed-up right now, I couldn't tell. I said nothing when Tanner joined me at my spot, but I did feel extremely close to him in that moment.

"Lillibet Haldson, District 12." A girl with wavy blonde hair said "I use knives to cut stuff at home – might be able to use that in the arena. I joined because my momma taught me to do what's right. She's be proud."

Spade took her place, tall, dark, and lonely. I think we all shivered in that moment. "Spade." Spade said "District 12. I can use my spade to cut through frozen rock – had to, to dig graves in the winter. I joined because," he looked up, and I swore I saw tears in his eyes. "because I've always needed something. And now I need it more than ever." He waited a long moment before finishing. "I need a family."

Then the real Mazie, looking like Nich, took his spot. "I am Mazie Skiprose, District 7."

Nich joined her. "And I am Nich Snow, the Capitol."

Everyone gasped. "But . . . but it can't be. You two . . . you switched?" Lillibet stammered.

"Yes," Mazie said quietly. "We switched."

"The other night," Nich said, once everybody had calmed down. "Echo and Totsie proposed something to me that did not surprise me. They suggested we murder the president."

There was a gasp from Lillibet and Luna, and more muttering.

"And are you okay with this?" Steven asked.

Nich closed her eyes. "Am I okay with this?" she muttered, and then she opened her eyes. "Once, I must believe, my father was a good man. Now, he is a monster." Her face was bitter with distaste "But maybe, in the other world – beyond, he'll be a good man. I . . . I have to hope." She closed her eyes a moment, and Mazie put a hand on her back. "Yes, well, Steven, I am okay with this. It is for the best."

"And will Mazie do it?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at Mazie, who smiled sadly.

"I will do it," she said "because Nich wants me to." Nich an Mazie smiled at each other, and I thought briefly of Estella. But I swept that thought away quickly.

"Wait," Tomas stepped forward. "Are we sure about this – killing the President? I mean, we'll all be killed!"

Everyone exchanged looks and laughed, the note high and pure. "Die?" Mazie said, smiling. "Die? Tomas, you realize that you're in the Hunger Games, don't you?" She laughed more.

Tomas, looking indignant, snapped, "Well, you're aren't, are you? Why should you get yourself killed?"

The laughter died suddenly, and everyone was serious once more. "Because," Mazie said, a bit icily. "if it costs only my life and the President's to make the world a better place, I say that it is defiantly worth it."

Tomas considered, then nodded his agreements. "I apologize then, Mazie Skiprose." She nodded acceptance, and they both stepped back, giving Nich the center of attention.

"Tomorrow, as you all know, we go into the arena. I have only a few words for you before then." She paused, looking at them all "and I want you to take my words seriously. I have spent a lifetime watching these games – all of them, rerun after rerun. I have seen all of their games – in all their glory." There was silence meeting her words. "Good," Nich smiled "I have your attention.

"Firstly : tonight and tomorrow, eat, sleep, drink, and take a long shower. Keep yourselves calm and cool – that's how we are going to portray this alliance. We are not going to be the people fainting before we even get into the arena.

"Secondly, I have a special job for each of you tomorrow. Luna, Nicholas, Peter, I want you all to grab whatever's closest to you and run for the woods. Hide nearby, and then we'll go find a camp. I'm relying on you three," Nich said very sternly. "We need you to guarantee we'll get some stuff from the Cornicopia." Nicholas, Peter, and Luna nodded to her, and Nich continued.

"Julius, Rayne, Totsie, I want you three to back up Luna, Nicholas, and Peter. Keep them and their supplies safe from the Careers. Throw a few knives if you can, but mainly, _get out of there."_ Julius, Rayne, and Totsie nodded.

"Lillibet, Echo, Tomas, and Steven, I need you to go through bags and grab as much as you can. Head towards Luna, Nicholas, and Peter as soon as you can. Keep the supplies safe." Lillibet, Echo, Tomas, and Steven nodded.

"Lystra, Tanner, Spade, and I will back up Lillibet, Echo, Tomas, and Steven. We might be up there awhile, but don't worry. We'll be there soon." She turned to Tanner, Spade, and me. "Try not to kill," Nich said "but, after all," she smiled "this _is_ the Hunger Games."

We all chuckled nervously, a rock sliding down our throats as we thought of what tomorrow might hold. Nich looked us all over and nodded. "We're ready," she announced. "Good night all, and Good Luck, Mazie."

We all sullenly left the roof, and I noticed that we didn't hide in the shadows anymore.


	28. Chapter 27

_***Lystra's POV***_

That night, I forced myself to eat, take a shower, and sleep like Nich had said. My dreams were filled with nightmares very similar to those of the night before. When I groggily woke to Emerald calling my name, I wondered what horrors the day would hold.

The day seemed to inch slowly, in horrid anticipation of what was to come. Tanner and I spoke little, but when we were separated to go into the helicopters, I instinctively clutched his hand. "N-n-no," I stuttered, feeling unsteady, head spinning. "D-d-d-don't go."

He smiled at me comfortingly, and, for a moment, the world made sense again. "Don't worry. I'll see you soon."

I looked into his eyes a moment, and the feeling came back. I let go and grabbed the rope ladder, muttering, "Soon, soon, soon." When the ladder froze me, I was still looking into Tanner's eyes. I broke contact only when I entered the plane and they placed the tracker in me.

Then the flight. It took what seemed forever. I only sat quietly, managing to eat some small morsels, remembering what Nich had said about staying calm. But I didn't feel calm. I tried to conceal it. I drank some water. Tried to relax.

It didn't work.

Eventually, Vincent, my companion for this leg of the journey, just reached across the table to me and touched my hand. That one motion calmed me, and I smiled at him slightly before he pulled away.

The rest of the ride, I just looked at Vincent, desperately trying not to go mad.

When the helicopter landed, I was taken to the brand new launch pad. I knew it was completely bugged – that Capitol people would vacation here for years – following in my footsteps. They might even reenact the Games.

How typical.

I tried to dink some more water, but I dropped the cup. The glass shattered on the floor. Shaking, I moved to clean it up and throw it away, but there was no trashcan. I glanced at Vincent, eyebrow raised. He shook his head at it and said,

"It'll stay here. Part of the attraction."

I only nodded and walked away from the glass.

Vincent brought out the outfit that we would all be wearing into the arena – a bright red tank top, deep brown knee-length khaki pants, a dull green hat, and a black jacket.

"Wow," I said, my mouth dropping at the sight of the mix-matched outfit, and I looked up at Vincent. "Are they trying to make us look like fools?"

He smiled slightly, and said, "Might not be a fashion statement, but the Gamemakers surely have their reasons."

I fingered the bright red material of the cloth, thinking I would have to camouflage it. "And these reasons are . . . ?"

He smiled again. "Well, expect warm days and cold nights," he pointed at the tank top and the jacket, then turning to the hat. "And a bright sun."

I nodded deftly as the cold rock settled again, and allowed Vincent to help me put on the ridiculous outfit. Then we sat in silence until Vincent stood and looked me over, saying only,

"It is time."

I stepped onto the metal disk, but immediately stepped off. "I can't do this." I told Vincent. "I can't throw my life away."

Vincent pressed his hand lightly on my shoulder. "Think of Estella."

I hadn't ever heard Vincent speak of Estella before. I had assumed he didn't know, but of course he did. The whole Capitol did. The whole of Panem did.

_Think of Estella._

I closed my eyes and imagined for a moment that Estella was standing here with Vincent, and that I was back in District 11, selling apples to the people, worrying about her. I shivered involuntarily. I didn't like that idea. But was this better?

I didn't know, but what I did know was I had to get onto that metal disk. But could I throw my life away for this?

I glanced at Vincent, and, tears in my eyes, I hugged him.

Taken by surprise, he hesitated a moment, but hugged me back. Then he directed me onto the metal disk. The glass secured itself around me, and I was going up, up, up . . .

Then I was in the arena.

At first, dazed, I keep looking at the last spot I saw Vincent. Then, shaking my head, sense returns and I looked around.

All the tributes were arranged in a circle around the huge, golden Cornucopia. Supplies were scattered about it strategically; the best being at the Cornucopia, the worst closest to us.

I quickly glanced about myself; snapping into action mode. About four feet on either side of me was the girl from 1, Elvatorix Fox, a Career. On the other side was the girl from 6, Fallen Surk. Elvatorix was poised, ready to run to the Cornucopia, while Fallen was eyeing a bag about 10 feet away.

Thinking of the plan, I looked for other alliance members. We were scattered about pretty randomly, and I managed to catch Nich's eye, and she smiled brilliantly. She nodded to the Cornucopia, and we both got ready to run.

The sixty seconds were surely almost up.

The gong sounded – loud and clear, ear-shattering. I assume everyone took off, running either away from the Cornucopia or towards it. But I'm not looking. I'm running as fast as I can, the wind whistling through me hair, towards the Cornucopia.

I arrive first, and immediately begin shuffling around for a weapon. _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!_ I shuffled and shuffled, and then, I found it. A bag full of knives.

Chuckling darkly, I took one out and looked around me. Nich had taken out a sword and was standing near me, guarding Echo and Tomas, who were digging through backpacks, and stuffing the supplies into a few bags so it would be easier to carry. Spade (who had managed to find his own spade – a shovel) and Tanner stood nearby, over Lillibet and Tomas. I inched towards them, waving my knives threateningly. They had all seen me in training. They knew to stay away.

I risked a glance at the outer edge of the Cornucopia, where Luna, Nicholas, Peter, Julius, Rayne, and Totsie should have been running to the forest. They were trying, but Armondo Rippet was advancing with a sword.

I yelled, taking a knife and throwing it at Armondo, who turned and deflected it with his sword. Completely ineffective, but it gave the others time to run away. Armondo bellowed, gave me a look that clearly said, _I'll deal with you later_ and turned to the others. Nicholas, stumbling under the weight of the many bags and other items, had fallen behind.

Armondo bellowed and charged forward, swinging his sword . . .

I yelled and threw another knife . . .

I turned and covered my eyes, and when I turned back, I saw Armondo standing over Nicholas, who was obviously dead, covered in blood and cut in gruesome ways. I glared at Armondo and saw with satisfaction that my knife had cut deeply into his upper arm, and he was wailing. I had a feeling I had struck bone.

He looked up and me and snarled, pulling the knife from his arm and letting it drop to the ground. He had a wild look in his eyes, and I swear there was steam coming from his nostrils. I shifted over towards Nich.

"How we doing?" I asked.

"Good here," she swung the sword at a close loaner, who yelped and backed away. Nich glanced over her shoulder at me, and saw Armondo. "What's got him in the butt?"

"Me," I said bashfully. "He was going after the others – managed to take Nicholas down. I threw a knife, and I think I hit a bone."

"Wait," Nich said. "Nicholas' dead?"

"I think so," I said "They don't fire cannons yet, though . . ." I looked at Armondo, who was pawing the ground with his feet like an angry bull. "We should get out of here, though."

"All right. Tanner! Spade!" Both boys glanced at us, and I motioned to Armondo. Tanner's eyes widened slightly "What did you do?" he demanded.

"Long story," I decided "No time. We have to go."

"You got everything?" Tanner asked Lillibet

"Yeah – yeah, I think so." Lillibet zipped up a bag, took a look at Armondo, and stood, swinging the bags over her shoulder. "Let's go."

Tanner, Spade, Nich, and I stayed behind as Lillibet, Echo, Tomas, and Steven ran towards the forest where the others had disappeared. Tanner swung a spear at the boy from one, who backed up right into the raging Armondo, who promptly ripped him to shreds (and I do mean quite literally).

"Time to go," I decided, and, each of us grabbing a remaining backpack, we ran for the trees. We were almost there when Carrie and Elvatorix stepped in front of us.

"You're not going nowhere," said a voice from behind us. I knew without turning that it was Armondo. Part of me was itching to correct his grammar, but I pushed it away.

I pulled out a knife. "Oh, yes we are," I said, and I threw the knife at him. He hissed and leaped out of the way, fearing the knife as he well should. He raised his sword and came closer, I stumbling back. Nich appeared out of nowhere and began to fight Armondo brilliantly. I considered helping her, but I knew I could just as easily hit Nich as Armondo, and besides, she was doing perfectly find on her own.

I turned to the others. Elvatorix was fighting Spade, sword to spade. Lillibet, Echo, Tomas, and Steven were struggling to find a way to the trees, trying to keep the supplies safe. But the next thing I saw was Tanner being pinned down by Carrie. My heart stopped.

"Ahhhhgggg!" I screamed, and threw a knife at Carrie, who deflected it, giving Tanner just enough time to scramble away. I tossed him another spear, and took a knife in one hand and a short sword in the other.

"What are you doing, little girl?" Carrie teased me. I didn't listened, only sucked in my breath, snarling. "Don't you want to go put on a pretty golden dress? Put down the weapons."

I flung myself at Carrie, and we fought – swinging and thrashing and stabbing and blocking. Tanner stepped in too, and we were all part of a complicated dance, whirling and twirling. And here's the craziest part :

None of us got hurt.

We only stopped when I heard Spade call, "No!" and I turned. He was on the ground, bleeding horribly, and Elvatorix had broken away, hurrying towards the others with the bags. "No!" I cried, and ran towards them. Elvatorix beat me.

With two quick shashes, the people that had once been Tomas and Steven were gone.

I yelled again in my anger, and began to fight with Elvatorix in an angry, frenzied manner that seemed to take her off guard. I cut her several times before I was satisfied that she couldn't move, and broke away. I glanced at the dead bodies of Tomas and Steven, and, once I was sure they were gone, I spoke to Echo and Lillibet.

"C'mon. We've got to get out of here. Now."

The three of us scrambled into the safety of the trees. They crouched behind me, as I had the weapons, and I scanned the forest. "Safe." I said after a moment, and glanced out at the Cornucopia. Carrie, Armondo, and Elvatorix had apparently decided to head back to the Cornucopia before everything was gone because Nich and Tanner were heading towards us, supporting a bloody Spade between them.

"Where are the others?" Tanner asked as they reached us. I was about to shrug when Totsie whispered,

"We're right here."

I jumped slightly, and looked them over. "You all okay?"

"Pretty much," Rayne shrugged. "A few scratches, nothing more. You?"

"Spade's pretty beat up," Nich said, "but we have to get away from here. We can carry him. You lose anybody?"

Totsie raised an eyebrow. "Nobody's lost . . . but I'm assuming you mean dead?" Nich inclined her head slightly, and Totsie lowered her head slightly. "One. Peter. Peter Sumlan."

Nich nodded slightly. "We lost Tomas, Steven, and Nicholas." We all sat there for a moment, absorbing this. Tomas, Steven, Nicholas, and Peter were all gone. Dead.

"We'll mourn later," Nich said. "Right now we've got to go." She was right. Yells and screams were coming from the Cornicopia. We all muttered agreement and turned into the trees, walking away . . .

. . . and straight into a nightmare in the nightmare.


	29. ClearUp

All right, a lot of people have told me they are confused, so I'm going to use this to make some things make sense.

All right, I know there's a lot of people. Here's who you should be concerned about and what about them.

Nich Snow – daughter of the President, switched places with Mazie and is now in the Games. Leading an alliance that refuses to fight.

Mazie Skiprose – switched places with Nich Snow. Now in Capitol and plotting to kill the President.

Lystra Fay Gull – soon to be reincarnated as Katniss, knife-thrower and Tanner's love interest, member of Nich's alliance

Tanner Lawson – likes Lystra Fay Gull, member of Nich's alliance

Totsie Griffensong – sister of Echo, member of Nich's alliance

Echo Griffensong – sister of Totsie, member of Nich's alliance

Juilus Adams – member of Nich's alliance

Luna Garcia – member of Nich's alliance

Spade – member of Nich's alliance, grave digger, orphan

Lillibet Haldson – member of Nich's alliance

Rayne Issa – 1st member of Nich's alliance

The President – about to be murdered by Mazie Skiprose

Elvatorix Fox – carreer

Carrie Rippet – carreer, Armondo's older sister

Armondo Rippet – carrer, Carrie's brother

That's really it. And, don't worry, these people are all about to start dying so you won't have to be concerned with them anymore.


	30. Chapter 28

_***Lystra's POV. And the end of the chapter is foreshadowing for Catching Fire/The Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins* **_

Toppled buildings lay everywhere. A thick layer of dirt and dust lay on the ground we walked on – a place that obviously used to be a path.

"What is this place?" Echo asked, staring wide-eyed at it.

"Looks like that clip they should of 13," Lillibet muttered, moving through it carefully.

"But . . . why?" Julius asked. No one had anything to say to that. We walked slowly and carefully through the ruined town.

"Did someone drop a bomb here?" wondered Lillibet.

"Of course not," Echo said "We'd have heard it." Then she looked around, confused. Anything seemed likely in this ruined town. "Right?"

"I don't know," Totsie glanced over her shoulder. "Is anyone following us?"

"We wouldn't be able to see them," I agreed, feeling uneasy.

"No," Tanner said "they're still at the bloodbath."

"We need to keep going," Nich said, kicking a pile of rubble. We all gasped when the rubble moved aside to show a collapsed sign with words carved in :

District 1.

"W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-what?" gasped Totsie, struck without words.

"District 1?" asked Julius "it can't . . ."

"What have they done?" Lillibet whispered

"This isn't the real District 1," Luna said reasonably. "there aren't any bodies." She shrugged

"Oh," I said, and it seemed completely obvious to me now. "oh . . . oh, yes, it can't be real."

We all began murmuring consolances to ourselves and each other. I found myself close to Tanner, and I blushed slightly, but didn't move away.

"We have to keep going," Nich repeated adamantly.

"Into that?" Lillibet's voice was a bit high-pitched "I don't think so." We all gulped at the thought of walking into the bombed District 1.

"All right," I said, turning decisively away. "Then we go the other way." Everyone followed me in the opposite direction. Mind full of pictures of the ruined District 1, I snuggled closer to Tanner as we walked.

Just as everyone calmed down slightly and all was quiet, the cannons went off.

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

6.

6 tributes dead.

6 out of 24 tributes dead.

Nicholas, Peter, Steven, and Tomas were four of them. I thought about the tribute that Armando had torn apart. Surely she was among the dead.

There were 18 left.

And 10 of them were standing right here.

In unspoken agreement, we all stopped for just a moment, remembering the dead. Then we moved on. We didn't have time to stop. Now that the bloodbath was over, the Carreers were fully armed and ready to come after us. We had to get away.

We began to run – a slow, steady pace that we could maintain for a long time. The pace had only just been set for a few moments when we all stopped, crying out in horror again.

In front of us was another ruined city.

This one was burnt.

"Another one?" gasped Totsie.

"Why are they doing this?" asked Echo breathlessly

"Well, I would've thought that'd be obvious," a quiet voice said eventually. We all turned in surprise to Spade, who was still being supported by Mazie. We had forgotten about him; figured that he'd been unconscious.

"What do you mean?" Julius asked

"I mean what I said," Spade said.

There was silence for a moment. Then I laughed out loud and clapped Spade on his uninjured shoulder. "Good one!"

Everyone stared at me in amazement as I continued to laugh.

"But why is it obvious?" Nich asked Spade

"They are reminding us," Spade said slowly, with hidden meaning under his words. "what happens when people go up against the Capitol."

Slowly, his meaning dawned on all of us. It was the President sending us all a personal message : _You go against us, and this is what we will do to you._

There was a long silence, and then, finally, Totsie asked,

"Which District is this?"

We all shrugged. "Why does it matter?" I ask. Totsie ignored me.

"Two, maybe?" Echo suggested to her sister.

"Maybe . . ." Totsie said, kicking aside ash, and revealing a charred sign with the words :

District 12.

Lillibet let out a gasp as she looked upon her district with horror. Spade groaned loudly. I shivered, wondering what it would feel like to see my home destroyed, and to know that, all across the country, everybody else was too. Including the people there.

"So . . . where do we go now?" asked Julius. I understood – I was feeling a little trapped, too.

"Through," Lillibet answered, her voice suddenly steady

"Through?" I asked "Lillibet, are you sure?"

"I –" she broke off and took a deep breath "I have to see it, Lystra."

I considered her and nodded along with everyone else. Then we set out throughout the burnt district.

_***Lillibet Haldson's POV***_

As I walked down the charred streets of my childhood, I felt a great, bubbling emotion kindle deep inside of me.

Hatred.

There was the bakery.

The warehouses.

The mayor's house.

The Capitol building.

My own house.

Our shop where I work as a seamstress.

All burned to the ground.

Ruined.

Hatred.

I felt it becoming part of me, settling in for a long rest.

We were near the center of my ruined district when we heard Elvatorix's scream. I exchanged a glance with Totsie. Elvatorix had found her district, 1.

"We need to stop," Tanner said, "Spade needs patched up." Spade looked bad. He was extremely pale, and he had been cut very badly on his shoulder. Blood continuously flowed from it. I gulped slightly as Tanner set him down.

"Erm," Lystra looked ready to puke. "Is anyone a medic here?"

"Me," I said quietly, and blushed when everyone looked at me. "Well . . . kind of. My mom . . . knew some things."

"I'll help," Luna offered. I smiled gratefully at the tribute as she rummaged through a bag, pulling out a medic kit.

_***Nich's POV***_

I instructed everyone to go through the bags so that we could see what we had. When we were done, we had two medic bags, one sleeping bag, 2 bag of dried food, and assorted weapons. We immediately handed out the weapons.

I had found a sheath and kept my sword in it.

Lystra grinned as she fashioned a bag around her waist. Inside, hilt/handles visible, was her short sword and 20 knives. No one had argued when she had taken nearly all of the knives.

Tanner had rigged up a useless leather strap around his back to hold three spears.

Lillibet had a small leather pouch holding a beautiful, deadly dagger.

Julius took a sword and a knife in a bag similar to Lystra's.

Spade (patched up with bloody bandages) carried his spade.

Luna took a short sword. I wondered if she could wield it.

Echo had a dark brown bow and peacock-feather arrows slung across her back in a sheath.

Totsie had a small bag around her waist with a slingshot in it. I knew that that bag would soon be full of rocks.

Rayne had a dagger and a short sword on a leather belt.

I stared at us all.

We were all drive by some force to join this alliance, but I was a bit scared that we were losing sight of our goal. I took out a medic kit.

"Come here, all of you," I said. I took out the bandages and tied a thick strip of bandage around all of our upper-left arms.

"Remember this,' I said "when the Careers come at you with their weapons; when you are struck with doubt : we are here to mend the festering wound between the districts and the Capitol. We are not here to cause more pain and suffering. We are here to end it. This is what the bandage stands for : that you are one in healing."

I felt the power swelling inside of me; the power my speeches had. It was like helium in a balloon. I knew that all cameras in the Capitol were on us.

I smiled.


	31. Chapter 29

_***Mazie's POV***_

I smiled with Nich, marveling at how clever she was being. I turned slightly to Nin, who headed sponsoring in the Games.

"There's a festering wound?" she asked, looking personally insulted.

"I suppose she means the rebellion," I said easily, smiling at Nin to make her relax "Anyway, about sponsoring . . ."

Nin turned away from the television and smiled. "Ah, yes. The years you've chosen to . . ." she chucked "were quite the Games indeed! Your father grants you quite the budget, eh?"

I only smiled, inclining my head slightly. The budget that the President gave his children was enough to feed my district for months.

"So," Nin smiled "Who's the lucky tribute you wish to sponsor?"

"Mazie Skiprose," I answered immediately. How odd it felt to address Nich by my name! "she seems strong enough to win, eh? And leader of a huge alliance, too." I smiled happily, and Nin smiled back.

"A good choice," she said "I've had most people going for Carrie and Armondo Rippet, but now they'll be more competition!" she winked "all right, here's the code for the room for Mazie's sponsers. Anytime you want to send something, just enter that code in the room with Mazie's name by it, and you can go send something."

I smiled at her gracefully. "Thank you." I intended to spend as much of the President's money sponsoring Nich before I killed him.

Walking into the Capitol streets, I still marveled slightly at the immense size of everything. What a waste. Billboards all around the buildings showed live clips from the Games, so I couldn't miss a single minute. I stared up at them, which, at the moment, was showing Elvatorix Fox gaping at her bombed district. I smirked slightly. I had never liked her.

When I got to my room, I made sure everything was in place. The assassination was (as Nich and I had planned) to take place in four days, at noon exactly when the President was getting ready to speak to the press. Even though that was so long away, I didn't want to be caught, and I was being extra careful.

_***Lystra's POV***_

Our group moved silently through the trees, away from burnt District 12. My mind was swirling with images of the bombed and burned districts. A great sense of foreboding rushed through me. I knew what district was next.

I instinctively walked close to Tanner again, fingering the bandage wrapped around my upper arm. He took my hand, and, though I blushed slightly, I didn't pull away.

I wasn't sure how I felt about Tanner anymore. I mean, he'd been a friend for so long , but now . . . our relationship was changing to something more sophisticated . . . more serious.

I shook the thought away. This was the Hunger Games. I didn't have time for this.

My feelings swirling, I hardly heard Nich say quietly, "Clearing ahead."

I gulped loudly, because I knew what this meant. I gripped Tanner's hand tighter, and took a deep breath. I walked into the clearing and into my district.

At first I thought it was unchanged, but, as I looked, I realized that it was changed.

All the houses were unharmed, in perfect condition. Everything was untouched, looking as it would on any normal day – apples in stands, wagons in streets. . .

But it was completely empty.

On any normal day, the blue sky, speckled with clouds, would have been thronged with mockinjays. On the ground, the streets would have been equally crowded with people jostling about. Wind would rustle the leaves of trees. Bird's screeches, adult's low talking, children's shrieks, cart's creaking, and woodland creature's chattering would all intermix. The sun would shine, warming them all.

But now all was deadly quiet. The still-blue sky had a thin layer of clouds over it and lacked mockingjays. The sun shone weakly, and fog covered two inches tall, all over the district's soft dirt ground. The air was completely still, and I was almost afraid to move; to disturb it. Everything had a deathly chill to it, and the unnatural quiet gave everything the feel of being underwater.

"What?" I sputtered out, staring out at my home, utterly dumbfounded. "How . . . oh." I couldn't say anything more.

Worlessly, we all set off throughout the district. I shuddered. It felt so . . . wrong.

"We have to camp," Nich announced, breaking the silence, her voice like shattering glass. I admit, I jumped like two feet into the air. I glanced at the sky. The sun was setting.

"Where do we camp?" my voice was sore. It hurt to speak.

No one looked at me. No one answered my question. It took me a minute, but I understood why. They didn't want to be rude, but . . . this place, my ruined district, was the best place to camp. "Oh."

Tanner and I exchanged a quick glance, and I sighed defeat. "Pineapple Square?" I suggested the block where Tanner and I both lived. He nodded shortly, and we led the others in the alliance there.

At the sight of my house, I couldn't stop myself; I broke away from our group and towards it. Father would be inside; maybe with Estella. Both would be crying; missing me terribly. Once I was in there, everyone would be happy again; this whole arena would have been a dream, nothing more . . .

"I'm back!" I yelled, grinning, as I flung open the door.

Slowly, my happiness turned to confusion, and then to understanding, and then to disappointment. I let the door close behind me, trapping me from the others. I felt humiliated, and upset. Seeing my house, perfect like this, had triggered something inside of me. Sighing, I plopped down on the bed in my room.

I picked up an exact replica of my hairbrush. So much had changed . . .

I began to cry. I knew that the cameras in the capitol were on me now, but I didn't care. I cried for them, for my father, to show them that I was still human. That the games didn't control me. I cried and I cried and I cried.

When I stopped crying, I sat on my replica bed, trying to forget I was in the arena. Trying to forget that I must die.

Then Tanner was in my room.

He looked so tall, strong, and comforting, I immediately began to cry again. "Oh, Lystra," he said, coming over to me. He cradled me and shushed me, comforting me as he could. He even cried for a little bit.

When we both stopped, he asked, "Better?"

"Better," I agreed, wiping my nose with my hand. He took the other hand.

"Look, Lystra," he said slowly "I know I kinda forced this romance thing onto you. If you, you know, aren't ready for this, just tell me."

I looked him in the eye, surprised at how honest he was being in front of the whole country. I tried to be honest too. "I love you, Tanner," I said, surprising myself. "but I don't know if I can do this."

He smiled gently at me. "I understand." He squeezed my hand "But I'm not going anywhere." Then he stood, helping me up, letting me lean on him. "Now, c'mon, Lystra. The alliance needs you."

And he led me out of the house.

I didn't look back once.


	32. Chapter 30

_***Elvatorix Fox's POV***_

The cannons went off, one by one. All of us Careers listened carefully to them – to make sure that everyone we had killed and left where they were, were actually dead.

BOOM. The boy from 1, Colin Shoemaker. He would have joined us as a Career, weakling that he was. But he had been struck down by one of the people from Mazie's alliance.

BOOM. The boy from 3, Nicholas Atom, whom Armondo had killed. I glanced sideways at him. He was running a finger over the patched wound on his upper arm, where Lystra Fay Gull had avenged Nicholas' death by throwing a knife. It had gone deep into the bone, and I wasn't sure we could mend it.

BOOM. They boy from 4, Peter Sumlen. The killing of Peter had allowed Carter James and Salena Flamel to join us Careers. Though they were from 9, and normally wouldn't be allowed to join, Carrie had watched them work together to kill Peter, and had offered them friendship – an alliance they could not refuse. I assumed she had offered the extension to them because the Career pack was so small this year.

BOOM. The girl from 6, Fallen Surk. Though the girl had almost made it to the trees, Carrie had caught her. Despite the girl's screaming and begging, Carrie had finished her off slowly. I could still hear her screams.

BOOM. The boy from 6, Steven Kent. I had finished him off after beating up the homeless orphan from 12, Spade. I sneered slightly. What a silly name.

BOOM. The boy from 8, Tomas Bard. I had finished him off after Steven. Oooh, the scream he had made!

6.

6 were dead.

18 were left to fight.

I grinned and cracked my knuckles.

Then we all piled the supplies in the Cornucopia while the Capitol took away the bodies of the six. After that, we argued for a bit about what we should do yet. After several long moments, we agreed that Salena Flamel would stay and guard the supplies, while Carrie, Armondo, Carter James, and I went to go ahead and hunt down tributes.

We stepped into an ordinary forest, but within moments, we came upon my burnt district. I began screaming insults at the Capitol. I went completely crazy, because I thought that it was my actual district. Eventually, Carrie began screaming at me until I came to my senses and realized that it was a replica. I still screamed insults for a bit, but I stopped eventually.

Once I had calmed down, Carrie addressed all of us Careers.

"All right. We need to start hunting down the others," she sneered "especially Mazie's little alliance. Blech. She makes me sick." We all muttered agreements and Armondo repeated,

"Sick."

"So, who are we going after first?" I asked

"I see you've calmed down," Carrie sneered "And we'll get whoever we can."

"Whoever," Armondo echo, punching his hand.

We all nodded and set off through the trees. We were oddly quiet, staring about the trees. I kept a hand on my many weapons at all times, eyeing Carrie warily. I didn't trust her – Carter James was not a threat – I could take him down easily, and Armondo was a bit of a puppet for Carrie, doing her bidding, and echoing her words. But Carrie was another story. She was quite deadly – she had proved this at the bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

We soon came upon the boy from 10, Satch Collins. Carrie motioned to us, and we spread out through the trees in a big circle, slowly closing in. We sprung him by surprise, cornering him. His eyes were wide, and forehead beaded with sweat. He slowly stood, grabbing a stick and swinging it in front of him as if he planned to fight us with it.

Carrie sneered at him and walked up to him. "You're Satch, right?" she asked

He gulped and nodded. Carrie smiled cruely again and raised her sword, shouting to the sky, "I want this down as my kill!" She brought her sword down, and Satch stumbled back, sticking his stick out. Carrie's sword chopped it neatly in half.

Satch stared at it a moment, and gulped, backing up right into Armondo, who growled and brought his sword up.

"No!" Carrie yelled at him, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. "My kill!" Armondo nodded slightly, averted his eyes, and backed up so that Carrie could get to Satch.

Sneering, Carrie picked up a stick like the one Satch had held, and mimed him swinging it in a cruel manner. Armondo caught on after a few moments, and began howling in laughter. Carter looked uncomfortable, and was averting his eyes. However, I narrowed my eyes at Carrie.

"Just do it, Carrie," I said in a low, deadly voice "We don't have time for this."

Carrie glared at me a moment, but knew better than to cross me. Instead, she returned her attention to Satch. She mimed him again for a moment, before suddenly striking with the stick, sweeping it under his feet. Satch fell to his back with a grunt, and, within a moment, found Carrie's sword above his neck.

"And that," Carrie sneered "is how you use the stick."

Satch's gulp was evident as he wriggled on the ground. "Listen," his voice was wobbly. "let's talk sense. I never wanted to cross you – I didn't join Mazie's alliance, did I?"

Armondo looked thoroughly confused, but Carrie just continued sneering. "Yes, but you didn't join us. That, my dear, dear friend, Satch, was your mistake."

"Well," he gulped again. "maybe we can right that mistake."

Carrie's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting an alliance with us?" she let out a barking laugh "You want to join the Careers?" Armondo joined her, laughing. When Carrie quit, abruptly, Armondo continued. She gave him a sharp look and he stopped.

"No, Satch, I think I have to refuse you offer," Carrie said icily.

"But we can cooperate, right?" Satch sounded desperate.

Carrie laughed once more. "Oh, Satch, you have been a joy to kill. But, as you might notice if you didn't have a brain the size of a pea," Armondo laughed loudly at this point, but stopped at another sharp look from Carrie "you might notice that you are in no place to be bargaining." And with that, she brought the sword down.

The cannon was immediate.

"Well," I muttered "took you long enough."

Carrie must've heard because she shot me a hard look. "And you," she said, advancing with her sword. I didn't back down from her, only narrowing my eyes slightly. Carrie put her sword in front of my neck the way she had Satch. "Will never cross me again. You hear me?"

I glared at her a moment until it was clear she was not backing down. Then I smiled at her, and, not answering her question, said, "Oh, Carrie, we're all friends here." She heard the unspoken challenge in my voice, and nodded sharply, turning her back on me to face Carter James and Armondo.

"Let's go," she said gruffly to them, leading the way into the forest. For a moment I considered not following her, but I'd already pushed my buttons far enough for a day. Ruefully, I followed.

We came by the burnt District 12. I clenched my fists slightly, angry with the Capitol for doing this, as we walked through it. The sun was setting when we came upon the ghostly District 11.

"Aha," Carrie said suddenly, as we gazed upon it. She pointed to moving figures in the streets. I peered closer, and a twinge of surprise took me.

"Mazie's alliance," I realized.

"Yes," Carrie grinned "just asking for ambush."

"Ambush," Armondo agreed.

"And," I peered closer "what on Earth is that ridiculous thing they're all wearing on their arms? Bandage?"

Carrie shrugged. "I can't see why it matters." Then she turned to us and smiled wickedly. "They'll have to split up eventually," she said "and when they do, we'll be ready."

"Ready." Armondo echoed.

_***Tanner's POV***_

That night, Lystra stayed close to me. We held hands, never letting go. I was happier than you could ever imagine.

We all established who was sleeping in what house, and put the sleeping bag in the center of the road. It would be for one of the two people on guard. The other would walk a circle around the houses we were using in the square. We would alternate shifts ever two hours.

When a cannon went off, we all shivered. We knew the Career pack had tracked down someone. They were on the move. We might be next.

We picked through our food bags. We hadn't eaten lunch, by common consent that we shouldn't waste the food. Also, none of us were really hungry, thinking of the ruined districts and the deaths of Nicholas, Peter, Steven, and Tomas. Truthfully, I don't think any of us were then, but we all forced ourselves to eat a small piece of bread, and another small piece of dried meat. I wished that we had water to wash it down, but we had failed to find any yet.

As I lounged against a house after eating, Lystra at my side, I commented,

"Too bad the fields weren't included in this replica." I eyed apples in a stall "Do you think they're safe to eat?"

Lystra shuddered. "Wouldn't count on it. It all seems so . . . wrong here."

I gave her a hug. "Don't worry. We'll be out of it tomorrow at dawn." She nodded, drifting off to one of the houses the girls were staying in.

"Goodnight, Tanner," she said.

"Goodnight," I told her, gazing at her retreating form. I sighed slightly, happy that she had finally chosen me. It seemed a bit odd – finding love in the arena, but I was sure the Capitol crowd was eating it up. It might even have gotten me and Lystra sponsers.

But my mind quickly flicked to the audience at home. How would they feel about this little romance – and even more importantly, seeing us in our ghostly, ruined district? I shuddered at the thought. It was weird to think about the thriving District 11, and then . . . this one.

And then there was the other problem : water. We hadn't seen any since we entered the arena. I knew we would need it soon, least we die from dehydration. I gazed down the lines of houses, to where the fields should be. There was a network of streams in the fields, but, of course, the fields were not included in this ghostly replica.

I shuddered, and wondered if there was any district with a river in it. I wasn't sure. As for a river outside of the district, was there one? I hadn't seen one in our travels yet – of that, I was sure. I gritted my teeth slightly and moved into the house – the misty, fake, stupid replica of _my_ house – that Spade, Julius, and I were sharing. I sighed slightly as I walked into my room. If I ignored the mist that was on the floor, I could be home. I understood Lystra's reaction more than ever now.

I sat on my bed a long moment, thinking of the games and everything else, and trying to convince myself that, outside of these walls, dangerously close, was a Career pack that wanted to kill me. But the thought was so disturbing and unbelievable, I pushed it aside and lay down.

In the comfort of my own bed, despite the unusual chill from the mist, I was quickly asleep.


	33. Chapter 31

_***Luna Garcia's POV***_

It was my turn to patrol around the houses. I crouch-walked about them, every once and a while glancing over my shoulder and shuddering. This place just wasn't right. I hoped that we would be out of here soon.

I blinked when I thought I heard something – a twig break, maybe? I wished there were shadows to hide in here, but the fog on the ground kind of glowed, so there weren't any. I peered into the darkness beyond the district. Was someone – or something – out there?

Another twig snapped.

I glanced about my surroundings, and back to the houses that the others were sleeping in. Should I go tell someone about the noises?

No.

They already thought I was a weakling – I couldn't afford to be wrong about this. I had to prove myself.

Gulping, I took out my short sword. I knew the others doubted that I could use it. I had used large knives in the kitchen before that were similar to this sword. I could lift it easily, and had no doubts that I could attack with it.

Another twig snapped, closer this time. I thought I head whispering voices.

I crouched and slunk into the other houses, heading towards the woods surrounding the ghostly district. I glanced behind me at the houses, but Nich was on guard in the middle of them, so I knew they'd be fine.

I entered the woods, checking to make sure _I_ wasn't snapping any twigs. While I was looking down, something heavy hit me, bringing me to the ground.

I tried to see what it was, but it was blocking my view. I couldn't breathe. I was grabbing the thing on top of me – it was sort of soft – trying to get it off me. It didn't move. I was gasping for air. . .

Air . . .

Air . . .

. . .

_***Elvatorix Fox's POV***_

The girl that Armondo had jumped on was completely still now. A cannon went off. "All right, Armondo," I told him "Get up."

Carrie glared at me, as if to say _I'm in charge here, remember?_ I ignored her.

"Who was she?" I asked, glancing at the face contorted into desperate, gory features as she had struggled for air. White blonde hair was stretched out about her.

"Luna Garcia," Carter James answered me. "District 3." I glanced in surprise at the normally silent tribute. I had been beginning to think him mute.

"So he finally speaks," Carrie smirked, and then looked at me "I don't see why it matters who she was. Only that there's one more down."

"One more down," Armondo repeated.

"16 left to fight," Carrie added

"16." Armondo repeated.

"Where to now?" I squinted towards where Mazie's alliance had made camp. "Go pick off more?"

"No," Carrie said "I don't want to face them all at once, and now they'll be expecting us. We'll go back to the Cornucopia."

We all took drinks from the water-filled canteens that we had found in the Cornucopia. I drained mine, but that was okay. On the opposite side of the Cornucopia was a stream where I could refill the canteen.

We headed back to camp.

_***Lystra's POV***_

We were all awoken to a cannon blast. For a moment, I thought that it was a dream – the whole arena was just a dream – a horrible, nasty dream!

But then I saw the fog on the floor.

Not a dream.

Thinking of the cannon blast, I wondered if we were under attack. I listened carefully. No noises. Stumbling out of bed, I put my knife bag back on and snuck out of the house.

Most of the tributes were already gathered in a circle around Nich, who had been guarding the middle of the houses. We were all talking loudly, worriedly. The Careers were at it again. It was the middle of the night, I thought, yawning, Couldn't the Careers take some time off?

"Wait!" Nich called "Quiet!" she mouthed numbers and she pointed to each of us in turn, counting us. She stopped, brow wrinkled and tried again. "We – we're missing Luna." She said.

"Luna?" Totsie asked "We switched patrolling the outside of the houses – I got her up a few minutes ago."

I asked the question that was making everybody's heart pound harder; everyone's lips were forming the question. "So was it Luna? Did they kill Luna?"

A hovercraft materialized at the edge of the district, picking up a body. We all peered towards it, and, maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw a swath of white-blonde hair.

"I imagine it was," Nich said quietly. Then she stood. "All right!" she called "We need to move out! Careers are nearby! We are in stealth mode now, all right, people?" We all nodded, staying quiet. "Good." Nich said. "Move out!"

We were out of the camp quickly, and walking silently through the woods. I kept my eyes peeled for other tributes – loaners, or Careers. Both were threats. I had a backpack slung over my back, my hands instinctively reaching towards my knives at every odd movement.

The others were like this too. Our fear kept our senses sharp.

But after an hour it was apparent to us that the danger was gone. No more canons had gone off, and we had not seen another soul.

We began to slacken our pace, like sluggish zombies. I knew we needed water – I was thirstier now than ever. As the sun began to rise, it got worst. I knew we had to find water.

Around breakfast time, I noticed something that lightened my mood considerably. I inched closer to Nich. "Think we need a break?" I asked, my voice cracking. My throat was swollen – it felt weird talking.

She nodded. Her forehead, like us all, was beaded with sweat. We were all panting, and were quite an ugly sight. I shivered when I thought what Vincent would say about my appearance right now.

"Those berries," I pointed to a clump of trees nearby "are edible."

She squinted at them, staggering slightly over a fallen branch. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "We eat them all the time in 11."

"All right." She said as we came under them. She raised her hand and raised her voice slightly. "Stop. Stop."

Everyone stopped gratefully, looking at Nich. She pointed up to the trees. "These are edible." There were immediate cries of thanks, because these berries might quench our thirst. "Who can climb?" Nich asked.

At that moment, I thought we all could climb if we needed to. Immediately, we began to climb the trees, plucking berries off and tasting them. I pulled my bag of knives off, grabbing just one, and joined them, stuffing a berry in my mouth.

It exploded with a burst, and the sweet juice filled my mouth, running down my swollen throat. I grabbed another, and another. Before I knew it, I was sitting on a branch, stuffing the berries down. I made myself stop. A lifetime of living on fruits told me to wait and eat slowly. I told the others by me to do the same, and they passed the message on.

I made myself wait, but it was like torture to my throat. It took all my willpower not to scarf down more berries, but I managed. When my stomach was full, I leaned back against the tree, wanting to eat more, but not daring. Through the branches, I saw Totsie throw up. She'd eaten too much.

I leaned against the branch and dozed off . . .

_***Echo Griffensong's POV***_

I sat in a tree with Totsie, watching her puke and the others fall asleep. The berries had tasted really good on my sore throat, but I had enough sense to stop . . . unlike Totise. When she was finally up, I told her, "You know which district's next right?"

She gazed at me a moment. "Yeah – 10. Your district. My original district."

I shivered. "Not looking forward to it."

She smiled gently. "Me either."

"Well," I said, trying to brighten up the mood. "At least we're out of the ghost district."

She shivered. "Yeah – that was really creepy."

I nodded vigorously. "Yeah . . . really creepy." There was a pause. "There's a river that runs through 10," I offered "it'll be there . . . as long as it isn't ruined."

Totsie shivered. "That river holds bad memories."

I nodded agreement. That was the river where Mom and Dad had died. But, unlike Totsie, I had also had some pretty happy memories at different parts of the river – like my first kiss. But I grabbed Totsie's hand again.

"I'm so glad I found you," I whispered. "I've missed you so much." Tears were in my eyes again, because I knew I might lose her again, and soon.

She had tears in her eyes too, and she squeezed my hand. "We'll work this out." She said, but we both wondered how.


	34. Chapter 32

_**Everyone, IMPORTANT NOTICE. I have a pole up on my profile asking you who should win these Games. I want to know your thoughts on this because I'm not even sure who I want to win. So, the voters will influence the story. So . . . go vote!**_

_**Also, cried writing this. I really did. Several times.**_

_***Totsie Griffensong's POV***_

I felt my sister's pain and happiness as we began to walk again – many, many hours later. We had slept the whole day in the trees (it was sunset), stripping the trees of berries. We were all still pretty thirsty, though, but Echo had told them that there was a river going through 10, and we walked with newly found energy.

I wondered if the Capitol was getting bored with no deaths – just everyone walking around. I knew we didn't have long before they got angry and began to make things . . . complicated. I shuddered, because I knew what they could do.

When we got to District 10, Echo let out the biggest gasp every, and began to faint. I caught her and slapped her face, waking her up. She leaned against me as we gazed upon the ruined District 10. I shuddered at the sight – it was the most gory.

District 10 looked as though it had gotten a bath.

In blood.

Blood was everywhere – bright reds, dark maroons, dried, and everywhere. Sticky and hard. We all gazed at the scene with mingled expressions of shock and disgust and disbelief. This was going a little too far.

And then I spotted the river.

Our hope for water was immediately gone. The river was made of blood. The sight of it made you thirsty – and then you realized that you were going to puke. We sat there staring at it for a very long time, getting very thirsty. Only when the Capitol anthem play did we realize that it was dark. We all looked up at the sky. The night before, we hadn't bothered coming out of the houses to see who had died. But now, there was no avoiding it. We looked.

There was a brief pause, and Luna's picture came up. Then the Capitol seal. Then silence.

_***Elvatorix Fox's POV***_

After we had made sure everything was okay at the Cornucopia (and replenished supplies), we set out hunting for tributes again. However, we didn't find any until just after Luna Garcia's face appeared in the sky.

Carter James spotted them first. He nudged me, and pointed.

Ahead was a clearing with another ruined district, 10, I assumed. And, right in front of ten, staring at the sky, was Mazie's alliance. Grinning, I nudged Carrie who grinned too.

"All right," Carrie whispered "here's what we're going to do; we will split into groups; Carter and Elvatorix, and Armondo and me. Then we'll make them scatter; easier to fight that way. Each group takes after some of the tributes. Kill them."

Simple enough plan. I nodded along with the others while Armondo coursed,

"Kill them!"

_***Totsie Griffensong's POV***_

Even after the sky went black, we all still stared up at the sky a moment, trying to believe that Luna was really gone. It was just so hard . . . . The fact that any of us could die . . . I hated the thought.

Then, suddenly, our attention was jerked back to the ground as four figures erupted from the bushes, charging into our group. In an instant, I had my slingshot, shooting at the figures, who were obviously Careers. But it was hard to get a good aim, in such a closely packed group.

In an instant, we were scattering away from the Careers, separating out. I knew instinctively that this was not a good thing, but instinct also told me to get away from the big, bad weapons. I turned to Echo, who had her bow notched. "Let's go," I told her. She nodded and we ran from the Careers.

At first, I thought that we were not being followed – that everything was all right. That we would be fine.

But then I heard crashing behind us. I glanced back, wide-eyed, and saw Carrie and Armondo crashing towards us. I met Echo's eyes – she saw them too. We began to run faster. It was pitch black now, and I couldn't see anything. I was worried I might run into a tree or fall into a pit full of snakes or something, but I didn't stop running.

Then we came to a river, lit by moonlight.

It was the same river that wound through District 10, only this part was not made of blood.

A quick glance told me why.

This was where Mother and Father had died.

The Capitol had preserved it – special, just for me and Echo.

Echo and I both stopped to stare at it a moment, before we came to our senses and ran into the stream. "In here!" Echo hissed, motioning to the water lilies. I knew this was where Echo had hid before. I nodded and we began to climb in. Echo was in, and I was almost, too, when there was a swishing noise.

A sharp pain at the base of my skull.

Then I was falling, falling . . .

. . .

_***Echo Griffensong's POV***_

I watched my sister fall, and I cried out, surging towards her. Her cannon sounded before she hit my open arms. Tears spilled in my eyes as I held my dear, beloved, dead sister. I turned to Carrie and Armondo, who were standing beside the river, watching me crouch and hold my sister.

"You . . ." I growled threateningly.

Carrie grinned and pointed at Totsie. "My kill."

"Kill!" Armondo coursed happily.

Them – talking about Totsie as though she were an animal they were hunting, filled me with anger. I stood slowly, letting the empty shell that had been my sister float away.

"You think you're so great," my voice shook with emotion "That you're so powerful. You think you're important, the best, huh?"

"Yes, I do!" Carrie called back cockily. Stupid . . . never mind.

"But you aren't!" I laughed loudly, madly. I couldn't function properly without my twin, without my other half.

"What do you mean?" Carrie snapped. She had been about to shoot me with an arrow, as she had Totsie. But now she hesitated. Armondo forgot to echo her.

"Do you know?" I laughed "you're not in charge. They are." I pointed to a random spot. "_They _are."

"Who is?"

I laughed, throwing my head back and laughing long and loud. "The Capitol of course. They are better than you – that's what these Games are made for – to show you. But you're too nearsighted to see even that!" I laughed again.

Carrie's nostrils flared dangerously. "Are you calling me stupid?" she demanded

"Stupid?" Armondo was still lost.

I considered a moment, cocking my head. "Very stupid." I decided. Carrie lifted her bow, aiming it, and I began chattering. "And ignorant, cocky . . ." A sharp pain in my chest.

I was falling. . .

Something wet was all over me . . .

"Totsie . . ." I managed to mutter before I hit the bottom of the river.

. . .

_***Lystra's POV***_

I was running away from it all, scared to death, knife in each hand. I was aware of Tanner clutching a spear beside me, and Julius' hand shaking as he held his sword. As we ran, I heard two cannons, and wondered almost groggily, whose they were.

I wasn't aware we were being followed until Juilius fell down. The cannon was quick, and Tanner and I both skidded to a stop, looking behind us. There was Elvatorix Fox and Carter James. I threw a knife at Carter with deadly accuracy. In the darkness, he failed to see it before it hit him. For a horrible moment, he remained standing there, looking at the knife, surprised, before falling, nearly hitting Elvatorix. His cannon went off a moment later.

Elvatorix glared at me. "You'll die for that one."

Tanner stepped in front of me, which made me nervous. I couldn't get a straight aim now. "You'll have to go through me first," he said, which kind of embarrassed me, but made me want to giggle too. Wait. Giggle? Me? There was something wrong here.

Elvatorix sneered at us "So, you've fallen for the confession of love thing?" she asked me.

"Oooh," I made a noise of anger and tried to push past Tanner, but he held me back.

"Ha!" Elvatorix called to us "Restraining your little pet, are you, Tanner?"

At this Tanner let me go, running towards Elvatorix with him. We unleashed our full fury on her – her two long swords vs. Tanner's spears and my knives and short sword. If she was struggling, she didn't show it. She moved with elegant grace – and in one motion blocked my jab, and snapped Tanner's spear in half. He removed one from his back, but he only had two left. As I began to think about what would happen if he ran out of spears, one of Elvatorix's swords made contact with my arm. Right. Thinking later. Fighting now.

We fought roughly, Tanner and me both giving our all, but Elvatorix was just so experience, so good at fighting that she never got touched once. While she didn't touch me after the arm incident, she snapped another of Tanner's spears, forcing him to go to his last one, which she promptly smashed, and then she began to attack him, defenseless as he was. He got a slash on his stomach, and he collapsed to the ground.

I screeched in fury, jumping at Elvatorix and fighting with renewed energy. How dare she hurt Tanner? She was cruel and mean and nasty and a bully! I thought up a billion names to call her as well, but I was too busy fighting to remember them all.

Elvatorix and I were getting nowhere fighting, and I was worried about Tanner. Was he badly injured? Dying? He couldn't be dead – no cannon had gone off. So how was he?

Elvatorix got through my defenses and was about to slash my arm when there was a yell from behind her. Elvatorix stopped and turned, and I stumbled back, trying to see the newcomers. It was Rayne and Nich. Trusting that they had the situation under control, I hurried to Tanner.

"Tanner! Tanner, oh, Tanner, tell me you're all right!"

"Wha – Lystra?" his eyes were foggy and unclear. "That's you, right?"

I broke into tears. He almost didn't recognize me! "Yes, Tanner, it's Lystra. It's your Lystra."

"Julius!" gasped Rayne as she looked at the dead tribute. Her gaze went to me nursing Tanner, and the dead body of Carter James, the former Career. "Wow," she commented "Missed something, didn't I?"

Elvatorix growled her agreement and charged Nich and Rayne, who fought with quick, speedy anger. I watched for a moment to make sure they had it under control and turned back to Tanner, whose eyes were sliding close.

"Tanner!" my voice raised high with hysteria. "Tanner, don't leave me!"

He blinked at me blearily. "Who – Lystra? Lystra."

"Yes, Tanner," I could feel tears in my eyes, spilling out. "your Lystra. I'm here. You're Lystra's here."

"Good, good," his words were quiet.

"Tanner, don't leave me!"

"Leave?" his eyes were confused. "Where would I go?"

"Don't go," I told him. "Stay here with me."

"Okay," he said, his eyes sliding so that they were closed. "okay."

"TANNER!" I screamed, staring at him. I felt frantically for a pulse, and there was one, however weak. I relaxed, but only slightly. I dug around in my medic bag, ripped off Tanner's shirt, and began to desperately patch where Elvatorix had cut him. I wasn't much of a medic, but I could do this . . . to some degree. I kept glancing over my shoulder, to where Elvatorix, Nich, and Rayne were still fighting. None were scathed.

When I looked up, Tanner was struggling to sit up. Whether this was a good sign or not, I don't know.

"No, Tanner, lay," I said, putting a restraining arm on him. He looked at me, and, in that moment, I've never seen more love in a person's gaze.

"Lystra, Lystra," his hand reached for mine, and I grasped it, a bit desperately, frantically. He looked amused.

"Ouch," he said.

"Oh," I looked down to see that his hand was paler than it normally was. I relaxed my grip slightly. "Sorry."

"Lystra," he said, his breathing slower and voice quieter. "You know what comes next, right?"

My breathing stopped, as did my heart. Yes, I knew, but I wouldn't accept it. "No, Tanner, no! You can't leave me! You just can't! I can't," I tried to gulp back the tears, but they came anyway. "I can't live without you!"

"You will," Tanner's eyes flickered close, but he opened them again, gazing at me with suddenly intense eyes. "You will live. You will win. Promise me, Lystra. Don't let me die protecting you in vain. You will win. Promise me."

"I . . . I . . ." I knew I couldn't live without Tanner in that moment, but I had to grant him his dying wish. "I promise, Tanner, but don't leave me!"

"I have to," he looked at me, eyes fogging again, and his hold on my hand was slack. "I love you, Lystra." he said.

I was crying. A lot, but I managed to choke out, "I love you too, Tanner."

And then his hand was empty. His eyes glazed over, like glass, his lips still forming a word – a name – my name.

Lystra.

And, somewhere in the distance, a cannon went off.


	35. Quiet Moment

Let's all just have a quiet moment to remember the tributes that have died.

Colin Shoemaker – came from my imagination. RIP

Luna Garcia – had no one to make her – came from my imagination. I remember, I was reading Harry Potter that day *wink, wink* RIP

Nicholas Atom – also came from my imagination. Made him up in science. RIP

Julius Adams – from the maker of Totsie Griffensong, Emily. Originally was made to be a love option for Totsie, but it never worked out. RIP

Totsie Griffensong – from the maker of Julius Adams, Emily. Originally was supposed to be in love with Julius, but it never worked out. RIP

Tomas Bard – from my imagination. Was feeling very musical that day (random!) RIP

Carter James – from my imagination. Was at first supposed to die at the bloodbath . . . but . . . well, he lived longer. RIP

Echo Griffensong – from the BFF of the maker of Totsie and Julius, Emma. Sorry she had to die! RIP

Satch Collins – from my imagination. I remember I was out of good first names . . . so he got stuck with Satch. Sorry! RIP

Tanner Lawson – from my imagination; was always supposed to be with Lystra. Never saw myself killing him – that part was impulsive. A lot of my writing is, though. o_O RIP

That's everybody! That leaves the following to compete for their lives!

Nich's alliance

Rayne Issa

Nich Snow

Lystra Fay Gull

Lillibet Haldson

Spade

Loaners

Illanna Rainflower

Percy Stein

Careers

Elvatorix Fox

Carrie Rippet

Armondo Rippet

Salena Flamel

Good luck, good luck, good luck, to you all! Remember to participate in the poll!


	36. Chapter 33

_***Lillibet's POV***_

When we all scattered, I went with Spade into the trees, in the direction of the ghostly District 11. We ran and ran and ran until Spade's bandages were coming off, and he could go no further. I was pulling out the medic kit when the first cannon went off.

Spade and I both jumped and stared at each other. Who had died? Just as I broke the stare, another one went off. I started, looking up at the sky. What was going on?

Only a few moments had passed when next cannon went off. Then another.

Then silence.

Birds remained silent, as did crickets. It was unnatural. Shaking slightly, I began to replace Spade's bandages. The wound itself was fire-red and looked like it was throbbing, but at least it had stopped bleeding. When the patching was done, we stared into the trees the way we'd come. There was still silence.

"F-f-four d-d-d-dead," I stuttered, staring at him.

"Four," he said, treating the word like it was a particularly awful word.

I shuddered. "What do we do? Stay here?"

Spade looked at me a moment. "Go help."

I gulped, and nodded. "Go help."

And, with that, I helped him up. He winced as though it hurt a lot, but said nothing. I patted his unhurt shoulder, and we began back into the trees on the way back. It took a while – much longer than it had to go there in the first place. It was like torture – not knowing what was going on; who was dead and who lived.

And then the sounds of clanging metal, and grunting reached my ears. Spade and I exchanged a glance, and began to move quicker towards the sounds.

Then the cannon went off.

Spade and I both stopped short.

Another one dead.

Five dead in total.

We both gulped, and continued, a bit more reluctantly, towards the sounds of battle.

Ahead, a great wail came out. A wail of sadness and anger. I actually stopped in surprise when I recognized the voice.

Lystra.

"YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!" Lystra yelled. I blinked at Spade, raising an eyEbrow. His eyes widened slightly and he looked mournful. "YOU ARE GOING TO PAY, YOU SCUM! YOU'RE A SICK BULLY; A STUPID, UGLY PIECE OF SCUM!" Well then.

Spade and I came in sight of the clearing. On the ground, blood spilling from their empty bodies, was Carter James and Tanner. It seemed that Lystra had patched Tanner up a bit before he died.

Besides that, the scene before us was almost comical.

Baffled and surprised, Rayne and Nich were standing back, open-mouthed as Lystra advanced on a shocked-looking Elvatorix. Elvatorix raised her sword, trying to defend herself, as Lystra launched a volley of blows so fast, I could hardly see it. Completely shocked, Spade and I stayed in the trees.

Then Carrie and Armondo Rippet came into the clearing. After standing, open-mouthed for a moment, they began to counter-attack Lystra. Whirling and twirling, she avoided getting cut, but fell to the ground, where Carrie put her sword above her.

"What is this madness?" a breathless Carrie demanded.

"Madness!" Armondo sounded thrilled. Elvatorix gave him a sharp look, and he shut up.

"I'M AVENGING THE DEATH OF MY LOVE!" Lystra yelled at her, along with a couple of choice words.

"SHUT UP!" Carrie yelled with such ferocity, I would have shut up. But Lystra kept at it. "SHUT UP OR I'LL KILL YOU!" Carrie amended.

"Fine then!" Lystra burst into tears "Kill me! Let me rejoin my love!" She began to cry heavily, shaking under the blade. All of us were completely taken aback by Lystra's many transformations. But, as Carrie raised the sword to kill Lystra, Spade and I both stepped out of the shadows, weapons at the ready.

"I don't think so," I said coldly, and Spade, Nich, Rayne, and I all attacked at once, defending Lystra. It was a quick battle, and I was vaguely aware of two figures joining us, and, later, three cannons. But all I knew was that we soon had Elvatorix, Armondo, and Carrie in the edge of the clearing. They glanced at us, and our sharp objects, and wisely decided to run off.

We didn't have the stamina to run after them. It was all that I could do not to collapse. My need for water was greater than before. "Who's . . . . dead?" I croaked.

Nich gestered to those lying on the ground. There was Carter and Tanner, along with Illanna Rainflower and Percy Stein, the tributes from 5, who had been loaners. "When'd they join the fight?" I croaked.

Rayne shrugged. "Don't know."

Then I turned to the last body. Spade.

With his death, I felt as though part of me was dying – he was the last piece of home I had left. I took a deep breath, looking at his dead body. Then I clenched my fist.

"Clear out," Nich ordered "they have to collect the bodies."

We grabbed what we needed from the dead bodies and headed out, a bit numbly, unable to believe the loss of lives.

"Wait," I said, looking at the other three – Rayne, Nich, Lystra, and I were the only surviving members of the alliance. "Are Totsie and Echo alive?" I knew the answer – deep down.

"No," Rayne answered "they couldn't be. There was a cannon for each of them."

Feeling much worse, I continued to walk.

And that's when we found the stream.

It was a quietly trickling – a sound that made us all run for it. When we reached it, we threw off our bags and threw ourselves into the water, washing off the dirt and dust and blood. Making ourselves new again.

It seemed like a good omen – after all the bad things that had happened, something good happened. Maybe things were finally going our way.

We cried then – for all of the dead people.

For our lost lives.

For all that had gone wrong.

Lystra cried most of all. We tried to comfort her, but she was inconsolable.

"Lystra," I said slowly "do you remember what we said on the rooftop?"

She met my eyes. Of course she did. She nodded slightly.

"You'll see him soon," I comforted her. There were words underneath that I knew the Capitol wouldn't catch, but she would : We shall all be back in 50 years.

We stayed by that stream all day; just relaxing and crying. At sunset, the parachute came down from the sky. It carried a basket filled with bread. I glanced at Nich quizzically, and then I understood.

Mazie was about to kill the president.


	37. Chapter 34

_**Yes, the 'coming back in 50 years' thing is definitely reincarnation – rebirth. (Lystra will be Katniss, Tanner will be Peeta. And so on)**_

_***Mazie's POV***_

I needed to be disguised, so I visited the spa.

I dyed my hair – well, Nich's hair, I suppose, so that it resembled a sparkling rainbow and lay flat on my back. Each nail was a different color that faded into another, and my eyes changed colors randomly, flashing. My skin became a pale orange, like the setting sun. My lips were deep, dark red. My eyebrows were gone. Eyes outlined in thick black. Sparkles of random colors came down from my eyes to my cheekbones, like glistening tears.

My dress shifted from bright color to bright color, and went all the way to the floor with a long train. It's sleeves cut into my hand, making a diamond to cover my palms. My shoes were simple flats that also shifted colors.

I wore many color-shifting necklaces as well, along with anklets and earrings. And, because it was required, I took a many – colored – feathered mask, and a bag that slowly flashed colors.

Under my elaborate outfit, I had put another outfit – a bright red tank top, deep brown khakis, a dull green hat, and a black jacket – the same outfit the tributes wore into the arena. I knew it would be a popular outfit tonight. My feet would be bare with this outfit, and my new mask would be that of Lystra's face – I would say that I was sponsoring her.

In the pocket of the khakis I had a single dagger. It was all I'd need to kill the President.

I grinned as I left for the party. I felt as though I had purpose again – like I was helping Nich. And that made me . . . happy.

This was going to be fun.

_***Elvatorix Fox's POV***_

Carrie was strangely quiet on the way back to the Cornucopia. I kept glancing at her, expecting her to whip out her sword and start hacking away at something, but she didn't. Armondo still looked puzzled about what had happened, which at least guaranteed that he was quiet. Which was definitely a good thing.

When we reached the Cornucopia, Salena came over to us, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Another bloodbath," I explained.

"Who died?" she asked, looking at us carefully. She probably knew Carter was missing. I wondered how she'd react to the death of the other tribute from her District.

"Totsie and Echo Griffensong, Illanna Rainflower, Percy Stein, Spade, Tanner Lawson, and Carter James." I told her, studying her expression. When I mentioned Carter's name, something in her gaze broke, like she was about to start crying, but she restrained herself, only nodded slightly.

"All right," Carrie muttered slightly, looking at us. She was regaining her air of dignity and anger. "There's only a few tributes left. Us, Mazie, Rayne, Lillibet, and Lystra. I think it's time we break the Career pack."

"Break it!" Armondo chorused, then immediately glanced towards Carrie, confused again. "Break it?"

"It means we're enemies, Armondo," I sighed, hating having to explain everything. "We kill each other now."

"Oh," he said, looking around. "Oh?"

I tensed, glancing at Carrie. I knew what came next. Another bloodbath. One Career would live, and then hunt down the rest of Mazie's alliance, kill them all, and emerge victorious.

And it was going to be me.

Carrie raised her sword, and turned to Armondo, who backed up nervously. "C-c-c-Carrie?" he stuttered "Sis? Charie? What are you –?" He was cut off by his own blood-curling scream as Carrie run him through the chest with her sword. He fell to his knees, then to the ground. There was silence until his cannon went off.

Carrie pulled her sword out and grinned. "That felt good. I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that."

Then she turned to Salena. "You always were a weakling. It's your turn." Salena tried to defend herself, but she met a quick, brutal end like Armondo's. When her cannon went off, Carrie turned to me.

"Say goodnight, Elvatorix," she smirked.

I continued, sitting where I was. I spread my arms wide. "Oh, c'mon, Carrie, we're all friends here."

Carrie sniffed. "As if. We have hated each other from first sight."

I laughed. "Well, it was worth a shot, eh?" I didn't move from my sprawled out position. Obviously thinking I wouldn't fight back, Carrie walked over to me, slowly, cockily. She studied me a moment, then raised her sword.

It was inches from my heart when I whipped out my own sword and pushed hers away with great force. Startled, Carrie let her sword fall, and I quickly whipped it away. Carrie backed up from me, looking around for a weapon, and laughed. She sounded panicked.

She kept backing up, and tripped over the dead body of her brother. She glanced at her now blood-soaked body, and quickly looked away.

" 'Say goodnight, Carrie,' " I mimicked her. She gulped nervously.

"Come on, Elvatorix," she gulped again, eyes bulging and wide as I held my sword to her throat. "we're all friends here."

I laughed. "Sure." I said. Then I brought my sword down, and chopped off Carrie's head.

The cannon was immedeite. I spat on her dead body. "Good riddance."

Then I tromped off into the Cornicopia. I filled one backpack full of food and water, and armed myself with as many weapons that I could carry. Then I left the clearing, because I knew they'd want to collect the bodies.

I didn't look back once.

_***Lystra's POV***_

The pain was swelling, stabbing, gut wrenching, heart-stopping, world-slowing, universe-shifting. I felt it with every tear that came out, every move or sound I made. I felt that death would be better – but I had promised Tanner that I would win.

So I would.

Of that much I was certain.

I cried and cried and cried that day, and I felt the tears washing away Tanner – the ghost of Tanner that still clung to me. I almost wanted to grab them – frantically, almost. But I had to let him rest – rest in peace.

Forever.

But it still hurt.

Lillibet, Rayne, and Nich cried too. For everyone.

Then three cannons went off.

We all sat up, upright in the water. "What's going on?" Lillibet asked.

"I suppose the Careers have broken," Nich said. "Only one left now."

"And they're going to hunt us down," whispered Rayne. Nich nodded her agreement.

"What are we going to do?" Lillibet sounded worried, anxious.

"We'll be ready," Nich lowered herself back into the water. "Just wait. We'll be ready for them."


	38. Chapter 35

_**All right, now that I've created anxiety from all sides, I'm dedicating this chapter to Mazie and the President. It's assassination time! Yes, yes, quiet down happy, screaming crowd.**_

_***Mazie's POV***_

I fit in perfectly in the crowd in my crazy color-changing outfit. As I predicted, many people were also dressed in the simple clothes that the tributes had worn into the arena. Pleased, I sipped champagne and nibbled cakes as I watched people swirl about the dance floor, and the huge screen attached to the ceiling that magnified the tributes' voices so that we could hear them above the music. Ah, to be part of the Capitol.

I knew that, as Nich, I would be expected to make a debut on stage, but I waited for now, because all eyes were on the ceiling. The Careers were breaking their alliance. I watched as Elvatrorix beheaded Carrie, then spat on her dead body. Part of me was cringing in terror and disgust, but I managed to keep my elegant stance. Nich had grown up all her life watching such scenes, and I had too. But Nich, unlike me, had never averted her eyes – Nich watched them all year round, while I only once a year. Nich was used to the Games – they were part of her.

I called a servant over. "Go to the sponsoring center. I am sponsoring Mazie Skiprose," it still felt weird to say that I was sponsoring myself. "I want to send her two loaves of bread." The servant, of course being an Avox, nodded, bowed, and hurried away.

I turned my eyes to the ceiling as the silver package floated onto Nich's lap. She sat up, looked at the loaf, and then fixed her eyes on an empty spot. The camera quickly zoomed in on that spot, so that it looked as though Nich was looking you straight in the eye.

"Thank you," she said.

I put down my champagne and cake. Now was the time – I knew it. I walked slowly through the people, threading my way carefully, and nodding to each of them politely in turn. When I had made my way to the stage, an Avox stopped me.

"I am Nich Snow," I said proudly, loudly, and importantly. "I am to speak on this stage tonight. Let me through immediately."

The Avox nodded immediately, and bowed, letting me onto the stage. I picked up the mike with all of Nich's attitude I could muster, then I said into the mike.

"HELLO, GOOD PEOPLE OF THE CAPTIOL!" not. Since I was being so loud, they had made the volume on the television go louder, too. I thought that everyone in the room would need new eardrums tomorrow – but they could easily afford it, so it wasn't a real problem. "HOW ARE YOU TONIGHT?" there was a loud yell in response, but I knew Nich wouldn't have been satisfied with it. "I SAID, 'HOW ARE YOU TONIGHT'?" I got an even louder yell this time, and my ears were popping. I ignored them.

"Do you want to know a secret?" I asked, a bit quieter this time. Everyone in the audience giggled and nodded nervously.

"All right," I said, looking around as if I was scared of someone hearing. "but you can't tell anyone." The crowd giggled again and pressed their fingers to their lips. "Shhhh!" they cried. I giggled. I knew that they would spread this news – which was what I wanted.

"Before she went into the arena," I said slowly, quietly, dramatically into the microphone. "Mazie Skiprose and I had a little discussion." Lots of excited murmurs. This technically wasn't allowed, but I was Nich Snow, daughter of the President. I could get away with anything.

"And she told me a secret," I continued. Many people yelled, "WHAT SECRET?" I giggled again – something I never did, but I knew they'd eat it up.

"I told her I'd sponsor her, and she told me she wanted me to send her something – towards the end of the Games. Now." Lots of excited yelling from the crowd, demanding to know what. "Oh, it was nothing really." Angry yelling. "Just . . . a small bottle." The crowd demanding to know what was in it. "A bottle of poison."

It took a moment for the crowd to understand what I was saying. Then people began screaming, fainting, some even crying. Oh, please. None of them even knew her – these people were so dramatic.

Of course, I knew what was really in the bottle I planned to send – it would be labeled, 'Poison,' with the skull and crossbones, but inside would really be a powerful sleeping concoction. Once Nich drank it, she would appear to be dead – not asleep. They would cart her off home, where she would be put at her house until it was time for the burial. I, still disguised as Nich would be 'attending the burial,' and would visit the house, where I would wake up Nich was a different concoction. Then we would both drink another concoction that made ourselves look like ourselves again. At this point, we would put a wax figurine of myself, Mazie, into the coffin. Then I would hide in the woods until the burial was over.

After the burial was over, I would say goodbye to my mother and sister, Wallie, forever. This was the hardest part in the plan – never seeing them again. But I knew it was for the best. After I said my goodbyes, Nich would smuggle me onto the train, and bring me to the Capitol. My face would still be a popular fashion choice, so no one would look at me twice. Then Nich would give me a fake identity, and I'd live my life in the Capitol.

It would work well.

"So?" I asked the crowd "Should I send it to her?" There was another 15 minutes of screaming, and the crowd never seemed to tire of it. When I, however, did, I left the stage. They kept screaming for almost half an hour, but I didn't stick around. I went to the sponsoring center, taking out the bottle.

"I need this in the arena now." I told my mentor (now, _that_ felt weird), who nodded and pressed a button that wrapped the bottle in silver wrapping, and shot it into the arena. We watched a screen as the bottle landed in Nich's lap. She nodded once and quickly pocketed it.

I thanked my mentor and headed back to the party.

_***Snow Jr.'s POV***_

My sister had certainly dropped a bomb on that party. Everyone yelled and yelled and yelled – me included. It was such a shocker. And when Mazie received that bottle, and she pocketed it, we lost it. Completely.

I waited for her to return, by the door. When she did, I greeted her warmly.

"So . . ." I said "When exactly did you speak to Mazie?"

She grinned. "After I saw her training score – that night. Naturally, she was thrilled to see me."

I grinned back at my sister. I loved her so much. She was all I had besides Father. "Oh, Nich," I laughed loudly. "You are something else."

She laughed too, and glanced towards the stage. "So, has Father showed up yet?" she asked.

I narrowed my eyes slightly at Nich – she didn't normally care about Father. "Yes – he's about to go give his speech."

"Oh?" Nich raised an eyebrow. "I see, I see." Then she turned to me. "I love your outfit."

I was in a dark blue outfit with little dots about it – I was the night sky. "Thanks," I told her. "I like yours too. Where'd you get the idea?"

She shrugged. "Just thinking about colorful things."

I smiled back at her – she was so easy to talk to! "Shall I go grab us some champagne?"

"That would be lovely," she said.

"I'll be right back," I promised, and I made my way towards the food tables.

_***Mazie's POV***_

I watched Snow go, and I felt a stab of guilt at ditching him like this – I was beginning to feel a friendship towards him. But I let the feeling go as I headed towards the stage, careful to stay away from the food tables. Another Avox stopped me at the stage.

"Nich Snow," I said. The Avox narrowed her eyes at me, as if to say, 'You've already spoken,' so I told her : "I'm here to say good luck to my father." The Avox nodded and let me pass.

I knew that the President would be further down the hallway, waiting to go onto the stage. I slipped into a powder room (bathroom) and took off my color-changing outfit so that I was in the outfit the tributes had worn into the arena. As I glanced at myself in the mirror, I thought that this outfit marked those who were against the Capitol.

It felt right to be wearing it.

_***The President's POV***_

I was about to walk onto the stage. I was surrounded by my suit-and-tie bodyguards. I laughed and joked with them. I knew a few had had too much champagne, but most of us (myself included) were somber. While I appeared to be at ease, I was tense as usual, looking around for signs of danger.

But the hallway seemed pleasant and normal enough. Me and my bodyguards were at the end of it, Avoxs lined the halls in case we needed something. A few important people came by to greet me with small talk. Lights came out of some of the powder room doors.

All was fine.

All was well.

So why did I feel uneasy?

_***Mazie's POV***_

I walked down the hallway with ease, feeling that I would fit in. The President glanced at me, and smiled. I was unrecognizable in this outfit, but he would greet me all the same.

"Bonjour, Monsieur President," I said, smiling at him, faking an accent I had heard in the Capitol several times.

"Hello," he grinned at me. "And who do I have the honor to address?"

"Celiucianna Belloux," I answered immediately – it was a popular name in the Capitol. "After me mother." I held out my hand, and bright red lips kissed it gently. I shivered internally and brought my hand back.

"Well, Miss Celiucianna Bellux," he said "I am afraid I have to excuse myself." He gestered towards the stage, and I nodded, bowing my head slightly.

"I vunderstand – completely." I answered, and he and his bodyguards went onto the stage. As one went, I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He turned, eyebrow raised.

We were in the shadows – the Avoxs couldn't see us. I knew this one was wasted. So wasted, in fact, that he didn't notice that I slipped my knife between his ribs. He began to fall to the floor. I caught him and placed him there gently, turning my attention to the stage.

The bodyguard's missing presence was not noticed. He was supposed to stand behind the president. His missing spot gave me a perfect aim. I raised the knife. I had one shot. One shot.

I closed my eyes, thinking of Nich and pitying her. What a horrid life.

I opened my eyes and pitied the President. What a horrible life. May his be better later. I took a deep breath, and threw the knife.


	39. Chapter 36

_**Well, this chapter is going to be short – but not so sweet. And yes, the 'is an insane man insane if he is sane enough to admit that he is insane' thing – I really did think of that. Yes, yes, I know. I was once told that only an insane person would come up with that. So I guess I'm insane. (Or am I?)**_

_***Snow Jr.'s POV***_

I had gotten Nich and our champagne, and was looking around for her. She seemed to have disappeared. Shrugging, I gave up, and watched as Father began his speech. He was so strong! To be that strong and important . . . that was my favorite, greatest dream.

That's when the knife came out of nowhere.

It struck Father's back. His expression came to confused, and he continued to stand. Then one of his bodyguards tugged the knife from his back, and Father fell to the ground.

People were shrieking. "FATHER!" I yelled, running to the stage. I climbed up, which really wasn't allowed, but no one challenged me. "FATHER!"

I ran towards him, but stopped short. Blood was coming from his body. He was not breathing. A bodyguard crouched down by me caught my eye and shook his head.

"NO!" I yelled, looking around wildly. Who had done this? And then I saw her, hiding in the shadows, looking at me in terror, happiness, and sorrow. But another emotion gave my sister away : guilt.

"IT WAS HER!" I yelled, pointing. People didn't see her – they were confused. "IT WAS HER! IT WAS MY SISTER! IT WAS NICH!"

Nich started, looking at me in surprise. Then she quickly ducked away from my sight, running away. "COME BACK! COME BACK!" I yelled, running after her, and leaving my dead father on the stage. "YOU MUST PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!"

She ran faster, out of the party, but I was close on her tail. I began to chase her through the Capitol. As more people realized what had happened, they hurried after me. But none could catch up. Eventually, father's bodyguards joined me, and we cornered Nich.

"What have you done?" I asked her, tears streaming down my face.

She straightened and looked at me, quite seriously. "I did what was right, Snowy. I did what needed to be done."

I flinched as she used her pet name for me. "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" She shrunk back. "You have to pay," I said, my voice shaking.

One of the guards raised a weapon, and my sister began to cry pitifully. "I did what I believed – believe to be right. You can't punish me for that!" I stopped the guard. "Wait." I said, taking it from him.

Nich looked at me, her facial features a mix of hope and horror. "You have to pay," I said. It sounded like a question, so I repeated it, firmer. "You have to pay!"

"Snowy – Snow, you're my brother," her voice shook "my favorite person in the world. Don't do this to me. I know you love me – I'm the most important person in the world to you, too. Please, Snow, you can't do this."

I gazed at her a moment, thinking. But my mind was filled with scenes of Father, falling, dying. And Nich was responsible for this. She had to pay.

"You must pay," I said, and walked forward with the weapon – a large gun. "You have to pay, Nich, no matter who you are."

She stared at me, crying. "What if I told you the truth?"

I stopped, staring at her. "What truth?"

She laughed, slightly cruelly. "What if I told you that I am not Nich? What if I told you that I am Mazie Skiprose?"

I was taken aback. It took me a moment to organize my thoughts. "I would tell you that you're insane."

"Insane?" she laughed – insanely enough. "Insane? Maybe – I wouldn't really be surprised anymore."

"Yes, you're insane." I decided.

She looked me in the eye. "Is an insane man insane if he is sane enough to admit he's insane?"

"What?" I blinked. "You're insane."

"Maybe I am," she blinked. "Maybe I am."

I blinked at her. "You must pay," I told her, blinking rapidly as I tried to get my thought process back in order.

"Is this a debt?" asked Nich "because all debts must be paid."

I blinked again, surprised. "You're talking in circles – you most definitely insane."

"I suppose I am," she said, and then she looked at me. "What's next?"

Suddenly, her calmness began to anger me. I felt it – billowing, hot tendrils running through me. I felt power – like what Father surely felt at all times – rush through me. I liked it.

"YOU MUST PAY!" I yelled at her. "AND I INTEND TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR IT!"

I then lifted the gun in front of her terrified face. I fired it once, and she crumpled to the ground.

She was dead.

My sister was dead.

My father was dead.

My whole family was dead.

I would be expected to become President.

But I was alone now.

Alone.

It was eating me through – the sudden loanliness. It was an empty hole in my chest that the cool wind blew through.

I dropped the gun.

It was the gun that killed my sister.

I had killed my sister.

I fell onto the ground beside her, and I began to cry.

Father's bodyguards – mine now – only stared at me, shocked and surprised.

I lay on the ground and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed as the horrible loneliness was with me.

Then she began to change.

The girl beside me – Nich – began to change. Her hair color and eyes and skin color changed until I was no longer staring at my sister, Nich, but the girl she had claimed to be :

Mazie Skiprose.

It took me a moment to understand what this meant.

I had killed Mazie Skiprose.

But Nich was alive – in the arena.

She was still alive!

I could save her!

The hole in my chest began to mend, the pain subsiding slightly.

And then I remembered the bottle that the girl beside me, Mazie, had sent to her.

Poison.

Panic began to come across me, opening the hole.

I had to save her.

I had to.


	40. Chapter 37

_**Rayne's POV**_

Armondo and Carrie Rippet's faces were in the sky that night, along with the girl from nine, Salena Flamel. "So," I muttered "Elvatorix won."

"Yep," Nich agreed.

Lillibet nodded.

Lystra continued to sob.

"It's us and her?" I asked

"Yep," Nich agreed.

Lillibet nodded.

Lystra wailed.

"She'll be here next?" I asked

"Yep," Nich agreed.

Lillibet nodded.

Lystra had her face in her knees and was rocking about.

"She's heading here now?" I asked.

"Yep," Nich agreed.

Lillibet nodded.

Lystra sobbed.

"We should move, then," I said, "or at least get ready."

"Yep," Nich agreed.

Lillibet nodded.

Lystra moaned.

I sighed, knowing that all of our thoughts were elsewhere – at home, wondering about our families – with that of the dead (Lystra especially), with the threat of Elvatorix, but, most of all, with Mazie. How was she doing? Had she been able to do it? Had she gotten away? Was everything all right? Not knowing was driving us insane, and we couldn't even talk about it because of all those darn cameras.

Our minds were so preoccupied, we couldn't bear to bring ourselves up from the stream. We just lay there. We were certain nothing could hurt us.

Then the sky lit up once more, and the Capitol seal was up, then a picture of the President. Slow, mournful funeral music came on. Lillibet, Nich, and I exchanged excited glances. Lystra looked up half-heartedly.

"Tributes of the 24th Hunger Games," a slow, mourning voice said. "Our dear, beloved – " If I had not been on live television here, with my life resting on the line (with that of everyone I knew as well) I would have snorted. " – President has passed from this life, into the better beyond." There was a short pause as the sky changed into many different pictures of the president.

"However," the voice continued. "You will be pleased to know that his assassin has been caught and killed." The voice stopped speaking, though the pictures continued in the sky, as well as the loud funeral music.

"Oh no," Nich's eyes were wide as saucepans, and I wasn't sure who she was crying for – Mazie or her father.

"Oh, N – Mazie," Lillibet quickly corrected herself as she gave Nich a hug, who made no move to return the gesture. She just stared at the sky for a long while, in what I at first thought to be grief. But, after a moment, I saw fear in them too.

"What is it, Nich?" I asked quietly, letting the loud funeral music cover my words.

"T-t-the concoction," she stuttered quietly "that we d-d-drank." She took a deep breath "I-it wears off after death."

I took a sharp intake of breath. "So they know?"

Nich nodded, a bit faintly. "They know."

"What will they do?" Lillibet whispered. Lystra stared at the sky, to Nich, and back again, as if expecting a hovercraft to come down and take Nich away.

"They can't let the Districts know," Nich whispered. "But they'll make sure I win." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "At all costs."

"Can you go back?" I asked, not sure if I meant emotionally or physically.

Nich shook her head. "No. Never. I – " she broke off, and then looked me in the eye. "I have to die here."

I took a deep breath, trying to stop my head from spinning. This was too much – way too much to comprehend after a long day crying and thinking in a stream. Too much action.

The funeral music clicked off, as did the pictures.

All was dark.

All was quiet.

That's when I heard the crashing nearby.

Elvatorix.

She's on her way.

She's going to kill us.

I take a deep breath, eyes wide in terror. "Oh, help us!" I cry, though I'm not sure who I'm calling to anymore. We needed help.

"Lystra," I said slowly. "Can you fight?" she's probably the best among us – after what I saw last night, I have no doubt in her. I turn to face her to find her already standing up, tears gone, strong and proud once more, and holding her weapons.

"She killed Tanner," her voice was low and deadly. "I can fight."

I only nodded and looked at the other two. Nich was holding a sword and seemed capable. Lillibet was squinting into the darkness with her dagger in her hand.

"Guys?" Lillibet said, without looking away. "Run. Run away. Now."

"What do you mean?" I asked her, staring at her. "Are you mad?"

"It doesn't end here," Lillibet said, studying me. I am suddenly struck with a sense of respect for her. "At, least, not for you."

"What do you mean?" I repeated, feeling uneasy. "Where does it end? How do you know?"

"My end is here," Lillibet nodded to the ground. "Here. But your end is in the clearing directly to the right."

"How do you know?" I repeated, but Lillibet didn't answer me, instead turning to Nich. "I am not who you think I am." She said.

"Who are you?" Nich whispered.

"I am not 14," Lillibet said slowly. "I am 47 years old."

"What do you mean?" Nich's eyes were wide.

Lillibet laughed. "You know what Capitol surgery can do. I had mine done shortly before I left for 12."

"Where were you before 12?" Nich whispered.

Lillibet ignored the question, and simply said, "I am not who you think I am. I am not Lillibet Haldson."

Nich locked eyes with her. "Who are you, then?"

I can hear Elvatorix getting closer. I know we have to move. But I can't help but want to hear Lillibet's response.

"Why, honey, I am your mother."


	41. Chapter 38

_**Lillibet Halson/Mrs. Snow's POV**_

As I looked at my daughter, I felt pride well up inside of me. My daughter. She was so brave, so noble, and so wonderful. I had never wanted to leave her, or Snow, but I had had no choice.

My husband, the President, was a cruel man. I discovered this shortly after Snow's death – only a day or so after. He had been quite angry with me over some small, unimportant matter, and in my anger, I told him that he was a monster. What I thought of what he had done to the Districts.

I saw his immediate anger in his eyes, and I knew that I would have to leave. He locked me in our bedroom corridors, and I climbed out through a window, which he would never have expected. He thought me to be a terribly dainty and delicate.

It broke my heart to be away from Nich and Snow for even a small time, but I went and had my appearance changed to resemble that of a small child – about one year old. The Capitol's technology easily did this.

I walked with my chubby feet down the streets, and no one spared my another glance. Plenty of people did this for fun all the time. I hid on a train on its way to 12, and then went to the Capitol building. I wanted to help this district, the one farthest away from my husband's cruel grip. But to do that – to gain their trust, I would have to grow up as a baby.

It pained me greatly – to leave Nich and Snow. They were my only regrets. But I had to go. I knew I might be able to make a change.

But I hadn't.

Not in the District, anyway.

But now . . .

Now I could.

I could save my daughter's life . . . at least for a little while.

I looked at the others, who I had come to think of as friends, and pled with them. They had to let me. They had to go, so that I could save Nich.

_**Lystra's POV**_

I understood what Lillibet wanted.

I understood why.

"All right," I said to the others. "Let's go."

Nich was staring at her mother like she was a ghost. "I-I-I-I," she gulped. "I thought you were dead – died in childbirth."

"No," Lillibet whispered "I never did."

They exchanged a long glance that spoke more than words ever could. Then Nich nodded and hugged her mother. She turned to me and Rayne.

"Let's go," she said.

"We can't just leave her," Rayne protested.

Nich shot her a hard look, and Rayne fell silent. We exited the clearing without looking back. I led them the way that Lillibet had said was where our end was. I found the clearing easily. Then I looked at Nich.

"What now?" I asked.

Nich trembled and reached in her pocket. "She . . . she is my mother," she whispered. Then she closed her eyes a moment, then opened them, bringing out a folded letter. She turned to me.

"Lystra," she said. "I heard what you promised Tanner, and I intend for you to keep that promise. You are going to win. And, as winner, there are things that I need you to know. Things I knew must be done when I thought I was to win. But now that you must win, I have this information for you. Read it," she said "and treasure it. Do as it says." She locked eyes with me here. "Promise me, Lystra."

I gulped. "I promise." This felt like a dream.

Nich turned to Rayne.

"Rayne, you were the first to join me. And here we are, two of the last five. I don't think you ever thought you would make it this far."

Ranye shook her head. "I never did."

Nich smiled faintly. I thought that the night was finally going to her head. "Do as I say, Nich. Please, please, please trust me."

"I trust you," Ranye said "completely. I will do as you say."

And Nich handed her a single bottle with a skull and crossbones on it.

_**Rayne's POV**_

At first I was shocked. Nich wanted me to poison myself? My trust in her was ebbing quickly. I couldn't believe this. How had she gotten this bottle?

But then I met Nich's desperate eyes. I knew she wouldn't do this to me. It couldn't be real poison. It just couldn't be. I trusted her. Completely. With my life. For no other person would I have lifted the bottle in a toast and drained it.

I felt myself falling to the ground . . .

Sleep . . .

. . .

. . .

_**Snow Jr.'s POV**_

I was having an emotional breakdown.

My father, my role model, my hero, was dead.

I had just killed the girl I thought to be my sister.

But my sister was still alive.

The woman, my mother, who had died giving birth to me, was alive.

In the arena.

With my sister.

I could only save one.

Who would I choose?

Everyone in the guard stared at me as I buried my face in my hands, trying to decide what to do. I knew they were concerned, but I didn't care. My world was falling apart.

Finally, I looked up. My next words were life and death – killing and life-granting. My sister was my other half. I had never known my mother. I knew that the rest of my life would be a what-if, but I didn't care. I knew who I had to save.

"Save Nich."

_**Lystra's POV**_

I watched Rayne crumple to the ground in horror. A cannon went off. I turned to Nich in horror.

"Y-y-y-you k-k-k-killed h-her." I stuttered. Nich shot me a pitying look.

"I pity you who survive," she said "it's your job to sort out the secrets. If only Tanner knew what he made you promise," she shook her head, and touched my shoulder gently. "Read the letter." Then she began to move away from the clearing.

"Wait!" I called, stumbling after her away from Rayne. "Wait." Nich stopped, but didn't turn. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"To help my mother, of course," she said. Then she walked away.

_**Elvatroix's POV**_

I came into a small clearing with a stream running into it. Inside it, alone, and armed, was Lillibet. I laughed at her brave face. She had always been a weakling.

"Hello, weakling," I told her.

"Hello, burly," she replied. I laughed loudly, throwing my head to the sky. A sharp prick at my hand told me that she'd stabbed me. I stared at her.

"You stabbed me," I said.

"Thank you, Agent Obvious," she replied. I roared in anger at her, and charged. I clanged my two swords against her dagger, but she held up, playing defense, and twirling in the air to avoid the deadly points. Occasionally, she managed to get through my defenses to stab me. I never once managed to touch her.

Somewhere, a cannon went off.

Part of me wondered who was dead. All I knew was that it wasn't Lillibet or me. So it didn't matter at the moment. I continued to fight.

"Hey!" a voice called. Lillibet and I both stopped fighting, looking over to the voice. It was Mazie.

"Get away from here!" Lillibet called to her.

"No!" Mazie called back. "I don't leave family!"

I thought that there was something guilty in Lillibet's face, but I ignored it, confused. "You two are family, as well?" I cocked my head. "Twins like those Totsie and Echo girls?"

"Nope," Mazie said. She nodded towards Lillibet. "She's my mother."

"Mother?" I asked, confused. I blinked several times. "Mother?"

"Yeah," Lillibet grinned. "Haven't you seen the wonders that the Capitol surgery could do?"

Then they both attacked, and I began to defend myself. We danced across the clearing, changing from offense to defense. No one really seemed to be winning until the boxes started to come.

_**Nich's POV**_

I know Snow has started to save me when I see the glimmer of silver. The boxes landed everywhere in the clearing – I knew that everything I could ever want was in them.

Food.

Water.

Weapons.

Changes of clothes.

Toothpaste.

Books.

Pencils.

Paper.

Electronics.

Snow was begging me to come back to his side.

I laughed to the sky and began to kick the packages. I know this hurts him. I loved him, but not his cause.

"We've chosen sides!" I yelled. The people probably thought that I meant Elvatroix, Lystra, Lillibet, and I – but Snow knew what I really meant. I was disowning him – as I had disowned Father.

Lillibet – Mother – tripped on a package, and Elvatorix used this to her advantage – coming up on Mother's stunned form and chopping her in two.

The cannon is immedeite.


	42. Chapter 39

_**Nich's POV**_

After the cannon, I knew that the pieces were falling in place. The packages kept arriving, but I ignored them. Every once and a while, Elvatroix would lean down and try to pick one up, but I quickly blocked her. Neither one of us would be using what we inside those packages.

We continued to fight. Everything was working out perfectly. Rayne had taken my place in the death-sleep, Lystra had the letter, Mother was dead, and Elvatorix and I were fighting to the death.

Next I would die.

It was for the best – being reincarnated in 50 years was much better – and hopefully I would be far, far from the Capitol when it happened. Then Lystra and I wouldn't have to compete for the Hunger Games crown. Then I wouldn't have to live with the shame of being _his_ daughter.

If I could, I would kill Elvatroix, take her with me. If not, she was already severely injured, and I knew that one of Lystra's knives would kill her instantly.

Everything was in place.

When Lystra read the note, she would know everything. About Snow – everything I knew about him, why she should pity him, and, if he was a tyrant like Father, how he could be killed. Because we had killed a president this time – Mazie had, I mean. Next time we would kill another, and this time, I was sure that it would be Lystra. Lystra would end the Capitol.

More importantly for the time being, she would know about how Rayne was in a deep sleep, and what to do to save her.

And then, lastly, were the instructions to burn the letter.

Elvatorix and I fought on, countering each stroke. For a while, I thought we could go on like that forever. But then, my downfall came.

Like my mother, I didn't notice a package, and I tripped on it, falling . . .

Elvatorix swung her sword. . .

I swung my own, not aiming to stop the blade but to Elvatorix's neck . . .

I closed my eyes before the contact came. . .

My last thought was what Snow would think – he had just as well of killed me . . .

Then the collision . . .

. . .

_**Snow Jr.'s POV**_

I watched in terror as Elvatorix and Nich beheaded each other. The cannons were simultaneous, harmonic, almost, in a horrible, bloody way.

A horrible sense of loss washed over me.

It was as if my brain were gone, as was my stomach, and my limbs were like jelly.

For a long time, I could only stare at the screen.

My father, my idol, my role model, was dead.

My mother, whom I had thought dead, was dead. I could have saved her. But I didn't.

And my sister, my only true friend, was dead. I had tried to save her – over my mother. But I hadn't succeeded.

Then the realization came over me.

Mother and Nich had both fallen on the boxes that I had sent. This had allowed Elvatorix to kill them. I had just as well killed them.

Terror came over me, and I began to claw at my face, my hair, whatever I could come upon. The guilt was deep in the air.

I had killed a girl directly today.

I had just as well killed two others.

And my father was also gone.

What was there to live for?

I wanted to die. Nothing was good anymore. My family – my loved ones were waiting for me. I had to join them. I was reaching for a piece of glass from a table I'd broke, when a guard stopped me.

"You are our leader now," he said gruffly. "Young as you are, we will do as you say. We," he hesitated here, looking me in the eye. "we need you."

And then weight of the world – er, country – fell upon me. I had to continue Panem's path as my father would have.

And I intended to do so.

I realized my motives abruntly, and stood. The man helped me up.

"C'mon," I said, aware of my superiority. "We've got a country to mend."

_**Lystra's POV**_

The cannons were simultaneous. Harmonic, almost. The last call of Nich and Elvatorix.

A hovercraft came to take me to the Capitol. I didn't even care anymore.

There was a sharp pain in my arm. I thought that they were taking the tracker out. Good. I hated the Capitol knowing where I was at all times. I hated the Capitol.

Someone tried to take the letter from me. I shook my head, clutching it tightly. They asked me some things, but I didn't answer. I couldn't hear them anymore. Someone tried again to take the letter, and I cried out at them, grasping a knife and clutching the letter. In my current state, the letter seemed to hold the spirits of all those dead in the arena.

It held Tanner.

I wasn't – _was not_ letting go.

I began to cry at the thought of Tanner. I knew that the people about me were responsible for his death, but somehow I couldn't lash out at them.

A doctor approached me, trying to coax me onto the operating table, where he would fix me up. I shooed him away, curling into a ball and rolling on the floor.

Several of the Capitol people exchanged glances, and I knew what they were thinking : _How on Earth could this emotionally unstable person win the Hunger Games? Elvatroix should have taken the crown._ And I agreed. 100%. If Elvatroix had won, then I would have been dead. And with Tanner.

I began to wail.

They exchanged more glances, and one took out a needle that I knew would put me to sleep. At first, I found the thought comforting. Peaceful sleep, where none could disturb me. But then I realized that they would take the letter.

I backed away.

"Come on, Lystra," said one of the doctors comfortingly "We'll fix you right up. Don't worry. We are not here to hurt you."

At first, this last sentence confused me. I followed the doctor's gaze to my side, where the bag of knives remained. Oh. Well . . . that might seem a bit threatening.

"I'm not going to sleep," I said, clutching a knife's handle tightly, as though to threaten.

"Sure you're not," said a doctor, approaching me slowly with the needle, which he moved slowly, carefully behind his back, as though that would keep me from seeing it.

"You know, I'm not an idiot," I said, gazing at the needle in suspicion. "And I'm not two, either. So you can stop using those baby voices. Okay? Okay." I gazed around at the stunned faces of the Capitol doctors, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction – the first emotion I'd felt since Tanner died that wasn't sadness, guilt, heartache, and just downright numbness. At the thought of him, my eyes began to water once more.

Then, to my left, I heard a clapping sound. It was loud and harsh in the quiet helicopter, and I jumped along with the doctors. I turned to see Kayton.

"Wonderful, Lystra," she laughed. "All right, guys. You're not getting your hands on her." Then she turned to me, extending a hand. "Come with me."


	43. Chapter 40

_**Lystra's POV**_

Kayton took me into a room. I suppose that it might have been a very nice room – nicer than mine at home, at least, but I didn't notice. I flung myself onto a couch, burying my face in a pillow. I wished I was in my room at home now, even if it was shabby. I did notice that Kayton locked the door behind her. Then she came and sat beside me on the couch.

"Lystra," she said after a moment, seemingly timid for once. "I . . . I thought that you might want to know . . . I made sure that this room isn't bugged."

I blinked the ever-present tears out of my eyes. "How?" I asked

There was a slight twinkle in Kayton's sad eyes. "I have my ways."

I remembered that this was what Nich had said on that day when she had told Totsie, Echo, and I her true identity. I began to cry again.

At first Kayton simply sat beside me awkwardly, patting my back, but when I looked up and saw tears in her own eyes, I collapsed into her arms. We both began crying, comforting the other as best we could, though we knew it was no good; we'd both still be sad.

The pictures came to me again.

Nich.

Totsie.

Echo.

Tanner.

Luna.

Elvatorix.

Carrie.

Armondo.

Lillibet.

All dead.

All gone.

And then there was me.

Still here.

Still alive.

And miserable because of it.

I was still crying in despair when I remembered Nich's final wish.

The letter.

I took it out slowly, tears still running silently down my face. Kayton's sobs, too, stopped when I brought out the letter. Slowly, I opened the letter.

Dear My Fellow Tribute,

I do not know who you are. But I do know that if you are reading this, I am dead, as is Mazie and the others. I do know that you are the winner of the 24th Hunger Games. And I do hope that you have enough sense to be reading this letter in a safe place, one that is not bugged.

So, firstly, I wish to offer my most sincere congratulations to you, winner of the 24th Hunger Games. I have spent my life, every day of it, watching the Games and its winners. Now I can tell you what comes next. It is living death. Forever, your life will be haunted with memories of me, Mazie and the others. Forever, you life will be a what-if. Forever you will be living, but dead.

Secondly, if you are reading this letter right now, there is a matter for us to settle – for me to inform you of, and for you to settle. It is the matter of the potion Mazie sent me shortly before she attempted to kill the President. Whether or not she succeeded I cannot tell you – this was written far before that moment.

But if you are reading this, she is dead, and so am I. The first plan was for me to drink the potion, Mazie to awaken me, and we to hide, forever safe, in the Capitol, the only two survivors of the 24th Hunger Games. But since we are both dead, you, along with another, have the chance to be those two in our place.

The bottle labeled 'poison' that I fed to the other was not truly poison, but truly just a strong sleeping potion that gives the appearance of death. There is a bottle that will wake them, hidden on the rooftop of the cage the kept us in before making us fight for our lives. If you are truly one of us tributes, you will know where it is hidden.

Then you must insist to attend all of our funerals. When you reach the district of the sleeping tribute, let them be buried. Mazie was going to get a wax figure of me to switch out, but you won't be able to get your hands on one. Instead, at night, you'll have to sneak out to the graveyard and dig the sleeping tribute up. Then feed them the potion and bury the coffin.

Then hide them on the train. When you come to your own district, hide them in your own home – not your new home, but your old one. You new one will be bugged. You both will be alive, and safe, even if you will be living a half-life.

One last bit of business.

If my father is dead, I say good riddance. May he be a better man in the next life. I am happy to be joining him.

If he is not dead, he needs to be. This matter lies in the hands of you and the sleeping one. I wish you good luck, for I may not help you here.

But if he is dead, there is still one problem.

My brother has been trained all his life to rule as my father did. My brother is a kind, innocent child, and I know he will be forced to fill my father's shoes. If you can, awaken the kindness in him. I beg of you – try to change him. Please.

Nich Snow

I stared a moment at the letter, trying to decipher the mysteries that lay inside of it. Kayton sat beside me, fidgeting slightly, reading the letter too.

"Rayne's alive?" I had meant it to be a statement, but it had come out a question, and I glanced at Kayton, looking for confirmation that I had read right; that I was not insane.

"Yes," she murmured slowly, wide-eyed "Lystra . . . what's going on?"

It was then that I remembered that Kayton didn't know about the drama that the 24th Hunger Games had held for us. Thinking of the others, my eyes teared up slightly, but when I spoke to tell Kayton all of the secrets so reverently held, my voice was steady.

It felt good to tell someone something. Kayton stared at me as I told, but when I was done, she only nodded and hugged me again, tightly.

Then we began to land. Outside, there was a whole army of cameras and reporters and others wanting to talk to me; to congratulate me; to console me. But right now, all that mattered was me and Kayton, sitting together, safe for the moment, in the room in the helicopter.


	44. Chapter 41

_**Lystra's POV**_

I lay on my bed in my old room, feeling thoroughly empty and tired and sad. The cameras had never left me – me staring stone-faced into them, me turning away, me crying. They seemed oddly eager to capture every moment of it. When one asked me the reason for my sorrow, I answered him as,

"The President is dead." I wasn't sorrowed by this at all – perhaps happy is a better word, so I left it at that. "I made many friends. They were all killed. Rayne, Lillibet, Tanner, and Mazie all sacrificed themselves for me. And now, here I am, healthy and alive as they wished, and as empty as a balloon tied to the ground."

Then I turned, clicking my heels and walking away. Behind me, I thought I heard the reporter's exited chatting. Hmph.

I didn't have anywhere to burn Nich's final letter, so I ate it. I knew I'd remember every single word. Forever.

The doctors fixed me up. I allowed them to use the pain medication that put me to sleep for two days. When I woke, patched up and perfect again, it was only from the nightmares of Tanner's and the other's deaths, and into the nightmare of facing them.

Then, afterwards, more interviews.

It had taken a long while, but I managed to escape to this room, where I lay. The next day would be my after-the-Games interview with Viola. There I would express my need to attend the other's funerals. The next day I would head out for them, and then, finally, home.

Home.

The very thought of it made me long for it, and want to cry at the same time. Thinking of home made me think of my ghostly district in the arena. It made me wonder whether I would find home the same way.

But I tried not to think of that.

Emerald and Vincent knocked on the door, calling to me, but I had locked it, and they didn't dare come in. Kayton didn't try. Kayton knew all of the secrets now. Kayton understood me now, and she left me alone.

I knew that the next day I would not be able to hide, locked and safe, in my room. I knew that I was not alone now, though it may seem that I was. I knew the room was bugged. I sighed, looking around the room suspiciously, trying to find the hidden cameras. Of course, I had no luck.

I walked over to the desk, taking out a pencil and paper. I sat down, trying to force myself into my drawing trance, to get away from this world. But I couldn't. The reality was just too sharp; too painful. I lay on the bed for a while, but I found the plush of the bed to be fake; as if it wasn't real. How could it be real in a world where people died?

I lay on the floor instead. Though the carpet was soft, I found it more appropriate. I shed some more tears, but the ball in my throat did not vanish. I lay on the carpet. Everything seemed to have a dull and somewhat forward approach in my life now. I thought out things slowly, in a sluggish manner, step by step.

I was blind in a world of darkness. The sun was dead and gone. My Tanner no longer lit up the world. The once flower-filled hills are mud and dirt. The bright colors are gone, replaced by the ugly black that is reality.

I thought, _Love is a veil of happiness that hides the cruel reality outside. Oh, how I miss you, Tanner!_ My very soul seemed to call out to him, and I got up, crying once more. Losing myself in the sadness, I walked over to the desk, and began to draw.

The picture was my best. By far.

It was of Tanner.

He was standing in a field of bright colored flowers on a high hill, in the world of romance. Light seemed to radiate from his form, lighting up the world. He was completely healthy, apart from the sword sticking out from his stomach. His eyes seemed to look at you, staring at you, his hands spread apart.

His eyes told me a message that I couldn't have known but deep down inside.

_Lystra_ it said _I love you. I am so proud of you, and am happy with the time we had together. It was tragically short, but I am satisfied in it. I miss you so much now, but we will be together soon, on this hill. I'm waiting. In 50 years, we can be together again in life. I love you, Lystra. I don't regret what I did. I'm waiting. I love you._

I began to cry again.

Tears stained the picture, but the marks didn't smear. When I looked out the window, I saw that it was dark. I stood up, holding the picture close, and exited the room.

No one else was in the District 11 hallway. Kayton, Emerald, and Vincent were probably asleep by now. Still, I closed the door carefully. Halfway down the hall, I stopped, letting my fingers graze the door of Tanner's room. I opened the door.

It was untouched – just as Tanner had had it. There was even clothes thrown on the floor of the closet. I stared at the room a moment – it was almost as if Tanner was still alive, using it. But he wasn't . I closed the door firmly, turning away. Tanner was dead. Staring at a room wasn't going to change it.

I headed up to the rooftops.

I began to feel purpose : a powerful emotion that can help anyone up. Which I needed right now. _Thank you, Nich!_ I thought _Wherever you may be now; for giving me purpose in life once more!_

First plan of action : Find the bottle that would wake up Rayne. I could save Rayne. I couldn't save Tanner, Nich, Totsie, Lillibet, Echo, or any of the others. But I could save Rayne and myself. That was all that mattered now.

The letter had said that if I was truly a fellow tribute, I would know where it was. And I did. There was only one likely place.

In the little clearing where Nich had started her alliance. I stood where Nich had, in the center, for a moment, memories washing over me. Then I took a deep breath and looked around, forcing myself into the present.

Somehow, I instinctively knew where it was hidden. The concoction could have been anywhere, but my eyes immediately fell on the perfect, damp dirt under the tomato vines.

Slowly, I walked over. My mind clouded slightly, and I imagined that I was walking through the ghosts of all the tributes, memories of them stored in place. It made me feel as though I was walking through jelly. _Good bye, my friends, my fellow tributes. I shall miss you._ When I reached the tomato vines, I reached my hand out slowly, still in jelly.

My hands dug in the soil only a moment until I felt the vial. Slowly, I brought it out.

And the world was back in its full motion.

I stared at the vial. It would bring Rayne back from what would else have been death. I wouldn't be alone anymore. There would be someone other than Kayton who understood me completely. Everything would be right – or, at least . . . as right as it could be when . . .

I shuddered and hugged the vial close. I glanced about me – I knew the roof was bugged. I knew that the Capitol was watching me right now. I knew that they wanted to know what was in the vial. I knew that Viola would ask me about it tomorrow during my interview. What would I tell her?

I brought the vial to my eye level, studying it. I didn't know what I'd say to Viola. I'd figure something out. That didn't matter right now.

I studied the bottle. It was small, about the size of my middle finger. Easy enough to hide. The liquid swirling and bubbling inside was a deep, royal purple. I stared at it. It seemed to hold the spirit of Rayne. I gulped, scared at the thought of holding someone's spirit with me. I stuffed it safely into my pock, standing from my crouch. I headed back to my room, cupping my hand around my pocket protectively.

I opened my door quietly, laying down, and taking the vial out of my pocket. I pulled the covers over my head and studied the bottle again. It was warm in my hands, whether because its substance or its presence in my pocket, I don't know. It also seemed to give off a light purple glow.

_I'm here, Rayne _ I thought _We're in this together. Don't worry. I'll be with you soon._ Then I fell asleep, into the world of dreams that might take me away from this living nightmare, and into a peaceful, happy dream.


	45. Chapter 42

_**This one's long! Fair warning – but it's good – you get more than just depressed, partially-insane Lystra in this one. Review and message me, please!**_

_**Lystra's POV**_

The following day consisted of a peaceful morning, sitting by the fire, eating breakfast for 3 hours, clutching the vile with purple liquid, and trying not to cry. When lunch finally rolled around, I joined the others at the table.

Vincent looked at me with a worried expression. "How are you, Lystra?" he asked gently.

I sent him a look as sharp as the knives I threw. "You know, Vincent. Why make yourself seem like a fool asking?"

Vincent flinched visibly, and returned to his plate, not looking up for a long while. Emerald tried to spark conversation with me, also, but eventually resigned herself to her plate. Kayton didn't try. When I glanced over at her, she regarded me with an almost fearful expression. I quickly looked back down to my roll.

I knew I was being poor company. I knew I was being snappish. But I didn't care. I had a lot – and I mean, a _lot_ on my mind.

When the meal came to an end, I sat still at the table, along with everyone else. Finally, Kayton stood up, and walked down the hall. I regarded her retreating back carefully. She seemed to have aged about 20 years. If I had known how much the tale of secrets about this Hunger Games would hold for her, I wouldn't have told.

I was just contemplating whether or not I should go after her when Vincent cleared his throat, a small sound that was barely audible.

Trying not to seem to ferocious, I turned to him, meeting his eyes. My voice only snapped a little when I said, "What?"

Vincent's arms moved ever so slightly – I knew he was wringing his hands under the table. "We have to get you ready for your interview with Viola."

Viola. How little she mattered to me right now. Just the thought of her silly accent, girlish attitude, and ridiculous sense of fashion made me want to puke. I took a deep, deep breath and forced myself to look away from Vincent; to resist taking my anger out on him.

"All right," I muttered.

Vincent gave me a pitying look, stood, and offered me his arm. My eyebrows lifted slightly, and my mouth curved into a sad, thankful smile. I accepted his arm. We were halfway to the door when Emerald remembered her job as escort. Quickly, she joined us.

When we arrived at the styling room, Emerald quickly left us, being replaced by my prep team. It took me a few moments to remember their names; Cario, Hezi, and Marinah. The last time I had seen them seemed like another life.

They immediately began to get me ready for Vincent. I didn't know what he had prepared for me this time. As usual, their efforts were painful, but my heart was too numb to notice. They took off all of my bandages, pronouncing them fully healed. I was almost reluctant to see the bandages gone. They had been a constant reminder that the Games were real; that I hadn't just imagined them. Now that that reminder was gone . . . I felt like I was becoming insane.

When Vincent came in with my outfit, I acknowledged it with approval. It seemed only right for what I'd just been through. But when he handed me tools – the only tools other than knives that I could understand – I gasped. So did the others.

Vincent took my hands in his, and looked deep in my eyes. In them, I tried to express my regret, sadness, and thanks for what he was about to do. When he let go, I looked around for somewhere to sit. I had work to do.

That night, I stepped onto the stage amid the screams of an enthusiastic crowd and the bright lights of the stage. Everyone wore a smile, seemingly happy to see me. Their brightly colored skin, hair, clothes, and other various objects were extremely in contrast to me.

I wore a simple, long black dress that went to the floor, and had a long train. A simple, thin black headband kept my hair from my face, and I wore no shoes or jewelry. My visible skin was pattered with blacks and grays (waterproof), the un-patterned a pale white.

It took the Capitol only a moment to realize that I was wearing the same outfit as before – during my first interview. I could tell this confused them.

I sat down beside Viola, my face expressionless, eyes holding truth of upmost sadness. She looked at me with what seemed to be pity, and patted my hands. "Ladies and Gentlemen!" she called to the crowd, glancing at me sideways. "The victor of the 24th Hunger Games, Lystra Fay Gull!"

There was wild cheering and clapping, and I knew that, most of the time, the Victor would stand up and flex their muscles or show off in some way. I lifted myself up, straight-backed and stared down at the crowd. The intended effect seemed to have worked – they shivered and stopped cheering almost immediately.

I smiled at them – but it was a sad, sad smile, not a happy one. The audience was completely quiet. Viola hesitated a moment, then asked me,

"So, Lystra, how does it feel to be the victor of the 24th Hunger Games?"

I glanced out towards the audience, searching for Vincent in the audience. He gave a small nod to me, and I looked back to Viola.

"Honestly?" I asked. "Do you really want to know – or do you want me to lie like they do every year?"

Murmurs of confusion swept through the crowd. The Capitol was always very close to the Victors – why would the Victors lie?

"Of course, dear," Viola nodded graciously to me, ignoring the audience's reaction. "We always prefer honesty." I nodded and stared at the audience again. In the screen, I saw a camera zoom up on my face. I was surprised at how frightening I looked – and sad, too. So very, very, sad.

"So, dear," Viola encouraged me. "Tell us. How does it feel to be the victor of the 24th Hunger Games?"

I fixed my eyes on the crowd, and saw the screen immediately zoom up to me. "Like a living hell."

Many, many people began to scream in surprise – this was beyond their reckoning. They were used to happy victors – not depressed ones. But I wasn't going to hide it from them. A picture of Tanner floated into my head. I blinked slightly, and a tear slid out of my eye. The audience saw this, and fell silent once more.

"What makes you say that, dear?" Viola's concerned voice asked.

I turned to her again. "I think you know, Viola. I think you all know." I paused, waiting for it, and one person in the audience called out, "Tanner!" I inclined my head slightly towards the voice and they all began calling his name. Just hearing his name was enough. I felt the knot in my throat trying to come up, and I didn't resist. I began to cry silent tears, running down my face.

The tears were a symbol of love for Tanner.

Of thanks to the audience for caring.

Of Resistance.

Resistance from the Capitol.

I closed my eyes momentarily, breathing slowly. When I opened them, I opened my mouth. The audience immediately was silent.

"Thank you." I told them.

"Now, Lystra," she leaned in towards me. "Let's talk clothes."

I wanted to shiver and tell her 'no, thank you!' but I didn't dare. Instead, I smiled slightly, sadly. "Yes, my stylist captured what I'm going through perfectly, didn't he?"

Viola nodded, closing her eyes slightly as she did so. "Yes, I'll say he did. Vincent, stand and take a bow!"

Vincent stood stiffly. He was dressed in completely black, like me. He lowered his head ever so slightly, sitting back down quickly.

"What impresses me, though," Viola continued. "is the similarities of this outfit to your outfit your first interview." Immediately a picture of me in my bright golden outfit appeared on half of the screen. "Why do you think he went with this new approach of the outfit?"

"Well," I said slowly. "Before the Games, I was the Golden Apple. Many times, in history, the Golden Apple came up, right?" There was a murmur of agreement. We all knew about the many Golden Apples – they were children's bedtime stories. "And each time, it was before something serious happened. The Golden Apple was always beautiful, always ripe. Then, something bad happened." Here I paused for dramatic effect, letting a tear drift down my cheek. "And afterwards, nobody asks what happened to the Apple. No one cares. The Apple disappears into the shadows; into the background." Here I gestured to my dark outfit.

"The Apple," I continued "is unchanged, but has lost. The Apple's cheery, bright golden color has not persisted. The Apple has lost the battle, and its color, too, has been lost, making it black and gray, colors of mourning for all the lost lives."

Complete silence. Eventually, I knew that Viola would break it, asking me a new question or introducing a new topic, but for the moment, she let it be.

"And now," Viola announced "for the highlights of the 24th Hunger Games!"

I allowed myself to lean back in my seat a bit. All eyes were fixed on the screen as it began to roll, beginning with the Capitol seal and fanfare.

It only showed a few reapings; just those of the tributes closest to me, or important in the Games – Elvatorix, Carrie, Armondo, Rayne, Nich (who, at the time was Mazie), Totsie, and Echo.

And then I was on the screen, volunteering to save Estella. I swallowed slightly. I knew Estella would still be in the Games next year. There was just too much drama attached to the name 'Estella Mason' for her to go unnoticed.

When Tanner came on the screen, the pictures stopped. It was a good picture of Tanner – showing him brave and sturdy, as he stood beside me on the stage.

"Lystra," Viola said slowly "How does it feel to see Tanner's face for the first time since . . ." she trailed off, not wanting to remind me. I was grateful, but I couldn't seem weak.

"Since he died?" I finished. She nodded. I closed my eyes and chose my next words carefully. "It's not the first time, Viola." There were several loud gasps as the audience misinterpreted my words. "His face follows me around. He's not really left me, Viola." I opened my eyes, and patted my heart. "He's right here."

Viola nodded as the crowd let out mournful cries as they remembered Tanner. "And seeing your small friend, Estella Mason? Does it hearten you at all?"

I thought of Estella. "Estella is a smart, tough girl. She's an orphan, and takes care of her brother. We were always in it together." I smiled slightly. "Estella is a reason worth living." There were several long moments of crying people in the audience, and I pictured Estella as she would be at that moment. Would she be happy to hear me say this? Sad? Worried? I wasn't sure.

The screen continued its film. The only other reapings were of Lillibet and Spade. Next it showed clips of our meetings on the rooftops. You couldn't hear anything but the wind, and the pictures were partially blocked by plants, but nobody cared. This was important in the Games.

The screen froze on a shot of me, looking at Nich in disbelief. "Lystra," Viola said "you didn't seem like you were sold on Mazie's alliance here."

I shook my head. "I wasn't, at first. I thought it was stupid. But then . . . but then I realized that I felt something for Tanner. I knew I couldn't kill him, and Mazie's idea seemed . . . like it would work in my new condition. So I accepted the invitation."

"Do you regret choosing her alliance?"

I shook my head again. "No. I don't regret a thing I did for Tanner, as I know he wouldn't for me."

The screen moved on to the interviews, showing only parts of Elvatorix, Carrie, Armondo, Rayne, Nich, Totsie, Echo, Lillibet, and Spade's. The only one's shown in full was my own, Tanner's, and Nich's. When we reached Tanner's declaration of love for me, the pictures stopped.

"Tell us what you were feeling – right then," Viola pressed.

"Confusion, at first," I answered "Then . . . then the shock settled. I mean, I'd known him all my life, and . . ." I trailed off, shrugging. "It was shocking."

"When did you return his feelings?" Viola asked.

I considered. "It took a few days, and many sleepless nights, for me to sort out my feelings. I felt like a jumbled mess. But then, I knew what I know now." I paused slightly. "I loved – still love – Tanner. With all my heart. There will never be another."

Many sighs and sobs of heartbreak from the crowd. Viola sniffled and brought out a tissue. I thought that I was the only one not crying.

The screen continued, into the Games, and into the bloodbath. When it got to the point of my triumphant face after sending a knife into Armondo's bone, the pictures stopped.

"Well!" Viola said. "I don't think any of us were quite expecting that, Lystra!" she laughed loudly. "You seemed like such a delicate little Golden Apple – with a love and everything! But you sure showed us!" there was quite a lot of laughter from the crowd, but my face was expressionless.

The screen went on to us finding the destroyed District 1, where the pictures stopped yet again.

"Lystra, what did you think?"

"That it was real," I answered. "everything seems so real in the arena – I hardly had second thoughts."

The screen hurried to the ghostly version of our district and stopped at a perfect shot of me crying in my house.

"I think you were quite shocked here," Viola chuckled. "We all thought we were losing our tough Lystra here. But you pulled yourself back up."

I nodded. "Yes. Thanks to Tanner. I think that he got me through all of those days." My voice caught, and a tear came out of my eyes. Many 'awwww's came from the crowd.

The pictures went on, and I watched several parts of the Games I hadn't been able to see – Luna being killed, the Careers hunting down loaners. Then, finally, during the Great Battle, I watched so many die. When the screen stopped on me holding Tanner, I lost it. I began to cry buckets, and the crowd did too. Viola shed many tears, and we ended up embracing, crying on the other's shoulder.

Eventually, the screen continued. I saw Carrie kill the other Careers, and Elvatorix kill her. Then Elvatorix was after us. We got the basket of bread. Then the small potion labeled 'poison'. Then the sky lit up with the memorial for the President. The screen stopped.

"What were you thinking?" Viola asked me, her voice still a sob.

"So many deaths," I whispered. "It was horrible." I shuddered. "I never – _never_ want to deal with that sort of knowledge again."

More tears followed. Much sobbing. Much sadness. I couldn't remember any other interview like it – they had all been happy. But not this one. This was very sad.

Viola let the screen continue to the end of the Games, finally fixing on a picture of me staring into the woods, sad, strong, and proud.

"Oh Lystra," she murmured just under the crowd's loud crying. I met her eyes. She truly did feel bad for me. I blinked thanks, and the moment was gone.

"So tell us!" she said loudly, to catch the attention of the crowd. "What was in the letter?"

"Directions." I said simply. "It told me how to find a bottle and what it was."

"And what was it?" Viola asked eagerly.

I smiled slightly at her eagerness. "Wait."

She let the screen continue, and it flicked to me going crazy in the helicopter, and Kayton taking me back, to clips of me crying in my room. The screen stopped at the picture I had drawn of Tanner.

There was a hush in the crowd.

"You have talent, Lystra," Viola said quietly. I nodded. She said no more, only let the film continue. More pictures of me crying. Then, me in Tanner's doorway. And finally, me on the rooftop, holding the small vial of purple liquid.

"All right, Lystra," Viola said. "Tell us what's in it now."

I closed my eyes. "Poison."

Loud gasps and calls for me not to take it. "Lystra!" gasped Viola "You got rid of it, didn't you?"

I shook my head. "I have it with me now." I took out a vial and looked at it carefully. The whole building was silent. I saw men with tranquillizer guns appear in the wings.

"You aren't going to take it, are you Lystra?" breathed Viola.

I shook my head again. "Tanner sacrificed himself to save me, didn't he? I want to be with him, but that can wait. I have to accept his dying wish." I then threw the vial onto the stage, where it shattered, spilling glass and purple liquid everywhere.

No one moved to pick it up.

_**Long and good – feel like I accomplished something here. Don't worry – the mysteries of the 'tools' and why Lystra would smash the bottle will be solved in the next chapter, which continues the interview.**_


	46. Chapter 43

_**Snow's POV**_

I stared at the vial, crushed on the floor. I small smirk came onto my face. Lystra may have been fooling the audience with her sad, crushed form, but I wasn't convinced. Obviously, she just wanted to shock them – she had never loved that Tanner kid. She was just playing.

I stepped onto the stage, and the people began to cheer for me – they had all heard about how I had killed the killer of my father, even though she was my "sister", and how I would take his place as President. Of course they all approved. Why wouldn't they?

A chair was brought out for me. I sat between Viola and Lystra in ease. They both looked at me, surprised by my sudden appearance. I pretended that I didn't notice.

"Oh!" Viola gasped. "How lovely to see you, future," here she winked with a small smile "President Snow."

I smiled back at her. "Viola, lovely as always." I took her hand and kissed it.

"Oh," she blushed visibly. "Oh, really, you're too kind."

"And," I turned to Lystra in her stunningly depressing gown. "the mourning, burnt Golden Apple, Lystra Fay Gull." She held out her hand, a bit hesitatingly, and I kissed it. "I speak for all of Panem when I say we are sorry for your loss."

I saw the tears form in her eyes. "I thank you, young President," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper of breath. "And I speak for myself and Tanner, and all the others of the 24th Hunger Games, when I say that we are sorry for your . . ." she pronounced this next word carefully. "_losses."_

What a good actor she was! She made her way through the Game with ease! I wasn't at all surprised that she had won. In only two sentances, she had awakened sorrow in the crowd for both of us, as well of reminding me that 1) she was older than me 2) I must not look down on her because of her loss – for I had had my own fair share as well as 3) telling me that she knew the truth about Nich.

I bowed my head, making myself seem very sad. "I had to choose a side," I said quietly, looking up to a camera. "I'm only sorry that they both had to die."

Lystra reached over to me, and took my hand. The whole crowd sighed in sorrow, dabbing their eyes. They assumed that we were banding together in this hard time, but they couldn't see the stiff way our hands were positioned, each telling the other that there was no trust – no similarities. She showed me hatred, and I gave it back.

Oh, how I loved these Games!

_**Lystra's POV**_

As Snow and I talked about our sorrows, I paid close attention to him, remembering Nich's letter. She had begged that I try to change him, but I wasn't sure if I could. When I had seen him on the television, he always seemed to be a young child, staring up at his father with admiration, and at his sister with love and affection. He seemed the most happy thing in the world.

Now, with the loss of Nich and his father, he seemed destroyed. I supposed that finding out his mother was in the Games, and then her death, too, must have been hard. But I knew that Nich's betrayal was the thing that tore him up the most.

As much as I hated to say it, I thought that Nich herself had killed her brother and made a tyrant worthy of his father's name.

"So, President, Lystra," Viola said. "What are you two going to do now?"

I exchanged a glance with Snow. Our answers would have to be the same – even though we wanted very different things.

"Honor Father's memory," Snow said "by being the President he was."

That proved more than anything that he was too far gone for me to save. And he was forgetting about Nich. I knew this would have hurt her so much. "And I shall honor the memories of all those in the 24th Hunger Games." I told the whole of Panem, becoming strong again. "Even those who were my enemies. Because they died with honor. I shall honor them in two ways." I paused here, letting them all hear me clearly.

"One way is that I am going to be present at all of their funerals." There were nods – no other tribute had done it, but in my case, it seemed only right. I glanced at Snow, whose face was a mask of agreement.

"Another way is on this stage tonight. I have a gift for them all." I said, and I stood. All eyes were on me – a whole countries. I did not smile as I took off the dress that was really a robe. It fell from my shoulders with ease, and revealed the gown that I had made.

It covered almost all of my skin and, underneath, was made of white velvet. But, on the visible side was all paper. I had drawn on every single sheet, and then overlapped, showing pieces of the pictures.

I had made the Games.

There were the ruined districts, twisted bodies of dead tributes, their shocked faces, sad faces, clenched fists, and dark weapons. Practically every moment was there. I could see the shocked, sorrowed, and excited expressions of the people of the Capitol. I closed my eyes, wondering what the people back home would be thinking. I could nearly see the people in my mind's eye, laughing, crying . . .

When I opened my eyes, I realized that the future President was gone. I realized that Viola was standing beside me, and that it was time to shake hands and for her to wish me good luck. I extended my hand with a slight rustle, and Viola accepted it. The audience began to scream.

"Good luck," she said, wide-eyed, quietly to me, under the noise. I blinked and thanked her, because I knew that I would need it. I was in a mess.

Behind the stage, Emerald, Vincent, and Kayton escorted me to my room, where I sat without complaint. I wondered how I would be punished for this act of rebellion. I wasn't sure, but it was sure to be serious.

Eventually, Kayton walked in with dinner. I sat it on my side table, but I didn't eat. Kayton sat beside me on the bed. "Why did you do it?" she asked finally.

I laughed slightly. "Which thing?"

"Breaking the vial," her voice was blunt. "Now what about Rayne?"

I chuckled. "I didn't break the actual vial, Kayton." I shook my head. "I have to save Rayne – I know that."

"Then where's the real vial?" Kayton sounded shocked.

"Here," I took it out of my pocket, staring at the liquid. "Safe and sound."

She nodded and we sat there a moment. Finally, I asked, "How soon will I go home?"

"Tomorrow and the day after will be banquets celebrating your victory, here at the Capitol. Then, the way it looks, you will spend one day in each district for it's tribute's buriel – beginning with 1, skipping your own. Yours will be saved for last."

I nodded, another tear reaching my eye. "Tanner," I said.

"Tanner." She agreed. Then she gestured to my clothing. "You really drew all of that."

I nodded. It was becoming too painful to speak. Then we just sat there as the food on the side table got cold.


	47. Chapter 44

_**Lystra's POV**_

The next two days were a whirlwind of food and tears. People were constantly offering me congratulations, sorrows, gifts, and other things before armies of cameras. I felt a bit like a doll they wanted to put on a commercial.

My thoughts continuously turned to Rayne. I could save her. She was the reason that I kept going through the days.

That . . . and Tanner's death wish.

I spent those long parties thinking, trying to sort out my memories of the tributes, and repair my wounded soul. It wasn't easy. I still missed them all – especially Tanner – desperately, and I was far done from mourning. But I was able to make civilized conversation now without either staring down the other person or bursting into tears.

I was never punished for my dress during the interviews, but I noticed that Snow was keeping very close to me – keeping a careful eye on me. And when he wasn't, one of his security guards was in the room, at the table, or walking by. I knew I was being monitored. I knew that this was my warning – I wouldn't get another.

After two days of agonizingly long and loud parties, it was time to go to District 1.

"What should I expect?" I asked as Vincent picked out my outfit for the funeral. "I mean . . . it's District 1. How do they . . ." I waved my hand in the air, trying to find words. ". . . do funerals there?"

Vincent appeared from behind the clothes rack holding a long black dress and veil. "I don't know," he said. "I've never attended one before. But I'm guessing that they put the bodies out where we can see them, say some words, perhaps put a few gifts with them, and then they get rid of the body."

"Get rid of the body?" I asked, shivering. "How?"

Vincent shrugged, straightening the dress on a table. "Perhaps burying, perhaps burning. I heard something about bodies being thrown in the sea in four."

I nodded. "Different each place?" Vincent nodded. "It makes sense," I agreed. "Do I need to bring anything?"

Vincent considered. "In 1, it is considered customary to bring gifts when entering a household. I would bring something to give to the fallen tributes and their families.."

I narrowed my eyes. "I wasn't exactly friends with either of them," I said. "I don't know much about them. What do I bring? Their families have everything – at least, much more than I do."

Vincent disappeared behind the shoe boxes again. "Yes, but you must know, Lystra; the young President has paid for all of this" he gestured to my new and extensive closet "especially for you appearances on the screen. He will pay for any gift you desire to give."

I blinked, surprised. "But why? We were never exactly friends. Why doesn't he make you pay for the closet? Or the Gamemakers, maybe?"

Vincent reappeared, his face amused. "Well, you two must _appear_ to be friends. It's politics."

I sighed and twirled a piece of golden hair about my finger. "Well, I don't like politics then."

With that, Vincent and I both fell silent. He handed me the black mourning outfit, and I dressed slowly, thinking. What would Elvatorix want me to give her family? And the boy – Colin, had been a loaner. I hadn't known him. What gift could I give? In 11, the customary gift was food. But this wasn't District 11. This was District 1, where everyone was rich and no one ever went hungry. Food wouldn't do.

I sighed, turning my thoughts to the dead tributes. What could I give them? It was only right to give them something to go to their graves with – wherever those graves might be.

"It's time," Vincent said quietly. I stood, dusted myself off, and took his arm. The prep team giggling nervously behind us, we walked into the crowd of people. They cheered and cried for me. I didn't acknowledge them at all. I just kept walking. When we reached the train, Emerald and Kayton joined us, and we silently boarded the train.

Once the train took off, Emerald, Vincent, and the prep team all hurried off, having work to do. This left Kayton and I, standing awkwardly.

"Well . . . lunch?" I suggested

She shrugged. "Not hungry."

"Me either."

With that, we entered the dining car, sitting gloomily at the table. There was so much food . . . what a waste. Feeling guilty, we forced ourselves to eat a little.

"So," Kayton said.

"So." I said. There was a long pause.

"Do you have a gift for the funeral yet?" Kayton asked.

I sighed. "Not yet."

"Well, take care you find one," Kayton looked at a clock. "We'll be there in about three hours." I nodded and she walked off.

What could I give? I swirled my fork through the contents of a stew. I hardly knew Colin and Elvatorix. Their families . . . I knew nothing about. Were both parents living? Grandparents? Great-grandparents? Did they have uncles and aunts? Great-uncles? Great-aunts? Cousins? Siblings? Step-families? In-laws? In a society where everyone was healthy and safe, there could be lots of family. The idea made my head turn. In 11, we kept our close family close. We didn't both with second or third cousins. Often, only one parent was present, or none at all. The occasional sibling stayed in the home. Surviving parents died before seeing their grandchildren (or, rather, grandchild). Mothers and babies died in childbirth. From hunger. From simply losing the will to live.

And in 1 . . . this was making me feel sick. I stabbed the table with a butter knife. It went all the way through and came dangerously close to stabbing my leg. Somehow, this made me feel better.

I stood, walking away from the table. I entered my old room, locking the door behind me. This made me feel secure, even though I knew the lock was a flimsy thing. I looked at the balcony, remembering the night when I had stood on it, rushing towards the Capitol; towards destiny. I opened the doors, and immedietly fell back. The pressure of the wind was surprisingly strong. The last time I'd stood on this balcony, I hadn't minded the wind – I had loved it, in fact. But that was when I had been strong; full of life.

Like I had told Viola . . . I was dead now.

I didn't close the doors. The wind had always comforted me with its sense of freedom. Flying had always been my greatest dream (_**Hint, hint : Mockingjay...)**_ Now, more than ever, I wanted to fly away. I found myself singing the song that Estella and I had sung that day with the apple stand, by the compost heap.

Free!

Free to fly!

Free to love!

Free to die . . .

Freedom . . .

Oh!

To be free,

To be free!

The notes died in the whistling air of the wind. I imagined the notes being carried away by the wind, scattered throughout the world . . .

I swear to you,

I swear it!

I shall break through the barriers one day,

No matter what it takes.

To break through the injustice;

To reach liberty!

I stopped again. I had failed my promise, contained in the song. I was still a bird chained to the ground, stuck as if I was made of stone. Still, I tried once more.

Like the bird

Flying above the trees!

Like song. . .

Free to do anything!

Like the wind

Not controlled.

One day, I shall escape!

One day, I shall be free!

Free from this prison,

Free from this cage;

Free!

Yes, yes! Free! One day . . . in 50 years . . . in another game. With the others . . . with Tanner . . .

That's when inspiration smacked me right across the face. I knew what needed to be done. I walked over to the desk and pulled out my drawings.

I'd kept them all. They'd sat on the desk in my room in the Capitol, untouched. Now I laid them out on the desk here.

They were all there.

The first pictures, of me a Lystra the Fay, defeating the Goblin King – the President. The picture of us all, and how we would look in 50 years. The picture of Tanner on the hill, my sun. the picture from the dress during the interview – of the Games. There were over a hundred in all, ruffling slightly in the breeze. I closed the doors to the balcony. I didn't want to lose the pictures.

I took out a pencil and paper. Concentrating on Elvatorix, I drew a sketch of her. I drew her honestly, so her beauty came through perfectly, as well as that sly smile, and the cocky tilt of her head. She wore a plain, light gown to her knees, no shoes. The clothes of the dead. Behind her, I sketched a loan wolf howling to the sky, a full moon and stars above them.

I placed the picture with the others. I hesitated, looking at the black piece of paper now in front of me. I'd done Elvatorix justice, but Colin? I hadn't known him. He was just another dead tribute to me. I waved the pencil over the paper, searching for inspiration that didn't come.

I switched on the television. I had never turned it on before, but . . . The television offered me channels – a luxery we were never given in 11. Each of the channels was a tribute's name. I clicked on 'Colin Shoemaker'.

Immedietly, a woman came onto the screen.

"and," she was saying "this small boy, a jewel miner's son, was thrown into the games headfirst. Obviously he was confused, still mourning for his father. These were his goodbyes."

The screen flicked to Colin speaking to a girl of about three, crying as Colin tried to explain to her why he had to go. The look in his eyes was pure agony. I felt my heart breaking.

"Listen, Sparkle," he said desperately. "I'll be back. I – I – " he couldn't make himself promise.

"Don't go!" the girl, Sparkle, begged. "Please!"

"Sparkle, I have to," it looked like it was killing Colin to say this. "The Peacekeepers want me to."

"I can talk to Peacekeeper!" Sparkle offered quickly. "They nice."

Colin tensed ever so slightly. "No, I have to go."

"WHY?"

Colin tried to raise his head and look proud, but the tears in his eyes ruined the effect. "It is an honor."

The television flicked to his mother.

"Colin," she said "What will we do without youi? With your father d-d-" she broke off, crying. "I can't make a living – I need you!" The woman fell into Colin's arms, sobbing ,while Colin looked sadly at her. He seemed accustomed to this – not even surprised.

I turned the television off, disgusted. So Colin and I were very much alike. One parent dead, the other lost in mourning. Forced to lead the family. Both families near starvation.

I shuddered, staring at the black screen. Everyone in District 1 was rich . . . except for the Shoemakers. Colin wasn't able to work in the mines – just odd jobs, I guessed. So they lived off of nothing – like me. What would the Shoemakers do now that Colin was dead?

I was glad I was going home to Dad.

I turned back to the desk and focused on Colin. After a few moments, I began to draw. I knew what Colin would want me to tell his family.

I drew Colin's likeness, sad and short, with a hint of regret. He wore ghost clothes. The sun shown down on him in a field of clovers. But in his hand he held the only four-leaf-clover. Carefully, I placed the drawing amongst the others.

So it began. I drew each tribute's likeness, some with ordinary objects, like a chair, that I knew would mean something to the family, some with animals that symbolized them, and others alone in a landscape that was important, or sometimes just the look on their face was enough. When I had drawn them all, I made two extra copies – one for the tribute to hold while being sent to the grave, one for the family, and one for myself. This was how I wanted to remember the tributes – as ordinary people with lives, not as bloodthirsty people killing each other in the arena.

I picked up two copies of Elvatorix and Colin's pictures, and stared at them a moment. They looked almost alive, as if their spirits rested on these pieces of paper. I reached a finger out to touch Elvatorix, but before I could, there was a knock on the door.

"We're here, Lystra, dear," said Emerald's slightly nervous voice. She was still a bit scared of me.

"All right!" I called, a bit overly loud, shaking myself slightly. I glanced back at the papers, but they looked ordinary again. I shuddered, scooped them up, and left the room.


	48. Chapter 45

_**All right, sorry if this gets a little long and wordy, but I feel like I have to kind of do it like this.**_

_**Lystra's POV**_

". . . and so," the Capitol official droned "they were greatly honored by the Capitol with the opportunity of fame. And, I am happy to say, they achieved it. This is why today we are gathered here to remember the brave souls of Elvatorix Fox and Colin Shoemaker. Let us have a moment of quiet."

I looked about myself at the assembled mourners attending the funeral. The Capitol official (a tall, smug man) stood in between the two caskets that held Elvatorix and Colin, on a podium. I stood to the official's left, with Kayton, Vincent, and Emerald to my left. The prep team hadn't come. Snow had surprised everyone by appearing, and stood at my original spot – on the Capitol official's right. The families of Elvatorix and Colin were gathered tightly around the caskets, while the other mourners were behind them.

We were on the stage where they did the Reapings. Mourners who didn't fit on the stage were on the ground below, and the streets, as far as I could see. It was a spectacular view into the city with its high buildings. I remembered it bombed in the arena. I much preferred this view.

I studied Colin's family, which was so much like mine. Both Mrs. Shoemaker and Sparkle were clad in long but simple mourning gowns. Mrs. Shoemaker was staring at the casket as if it was a branding iron about to kill her. Her limbs continuously jerked about like she was resisting the urge to run away from this nightmare. She shook with silent sobs of terror.

Sparkle, however, was in a state of shock. Someone had obviously attempted to explain death to the child, but it was not done well. Her eyes screamed of confusion and terror. She stood very still and close to her mother, as if wanting reassurance, but none came.

Elvatorix's family was much larger – a cluster of siblings, aunts, uncles, and so on. Mr. Fox's face was a mask, staring at his daughter's dead, still, beautiful face. Another man who looked like Mr. Fox and had Elvatorix's green eyes (I assumed he was an uncle) stood behind Mr. Fox with his hands on his shoulders.

Mrs. Fox's face was a veil of sorrow. She sobbed delicately into a handkerchief. I knew the audience was eating this up, but I thought that somehow, this act rang false. It was like she was only pretending to be sad because she was expected to.

The woman clutching Mrs. Fox's hand looked exactly like Elvatorix – blonde hair, green eyes, and a look that could send you running for your mother. I assumed that she was Elvatorix's aunt. She kept gazing at me sharply, like she was assessing me; wondering if I was worthy to be in her presence. I recognized the hatred I saw there. I met her gaze calmly and with an air of dignity until she looked away. A flash of smug satisfaction hit me. My eyes always unsettled people.

Elvatorix's other relatives showed similar expressions to the others. Only her siblings showed real signs of sorrow. A boy of about 19 or 20 stood over the others protectively, looking at everyone threateningly. A girl of about 13 stood just before him, eyes numb with sorrow. Whenever anyone looked at her, she shoot them a look of, 'Yes. Elvatorix is dead. I am sad. This is horrible. Go away' and everyone looked away, embarrassed. At her side, a girl of about 17 had silent tears running down her face. She hugged a confused-looking boy of about 7. Twin girls sat on the ground, hugging and crying in the other's arms. They were only about nine. Their grief was so great, I could literally feel it coming off them in waves.

They all looked exactly like Elvaatorix – just as beautiful and cocky, with those green eyes (one twin and the oldest boy had blue) and blonde hair (the girl of 13 had brown like her mother). When I looked at the 17 year old girl, I thought for a moment that I was seeing Elvatorix again.

I noticed that neither parents nor the other relatives were even attempting to comfort the children. They were alone in their grief. I wondered what it would be like to live in that sort of family, and I felt a stabbing sort of feeling – guilt, almost.

I shuddered and looked away.

The Capitol official looked at me, inviting me to speak. I nodded and took his spot on the podium. "Elvatorix Fox," I said, quietly, but all could hear me. "was a beauty, and a fighter. I remember that I first thought her to be just a pretty face, but I soon found that that was incorrect. This one was willing to fight to the end." I stopped and glanced at Elvatorix's family, meeting her aunt's eyes when I spoke the next few sentences.

"At first, my thoughts of Elvatorix was completely of respect, and, when we entered the Games, fear. I can honestly say, however, that I never truly hated Elvatorix. I respected her, and she respected me." Elvatorix's aunt nodded slowly at me. I sent her a small, sad smile in return. "Elvatorix proved that she was a worthy opponent throughout the Games. In remembrance of her, I made this drawing."

I held up the drawing, and everyone gasped. The detail was astounding. "I give this to Elvatorix as a reminder of the world that she's left." I stepped up to Elvatorix and handed her the drawing, putting it firmly under her hands. "May she always remember us, her friends, her family, and fellow tributes of the 24th Hunger Games."

I went back to the podium, pausing a moment, before holding up the other picture, and walking towards Elvatorix's family. "As she may remember us, I wish for you to remember her." I stopped two feet in front of her siblings. They seemed the best people to give the picture to. "Keep her safe, where all could see. This is what Elvatorix would have wanted."

I handed the picture to the 17 year old girl, the one that looked so much like Elvatorix. She accepted it silently and hugged it to her chest.

I walked back to the podium. "I never knew Colin," I told everyone honestly. "He was just another tribute to me. But I feel . . . a certain kinship to him." I held up the drawing of Colin, and strode to his coffin. He looked so peaceful, safe in it. Carefully, I put the picture in his hands. "I give this to Colin as a reminder of the world that he has left. May he always remember us, his friends, his family, and fellow tributes of the 24th Hunger Games."

Again, I went back to the podium, taking the other picture. I went to Colin's family, holding it up. Mrs. Shoemaker seemed heartened by it, which made me happy, but it was Sparkle that needed the picture. I squatted down to be her size.

"As he remembers us," I told her "I wish for you to remember him, too." I pressed the picture into Sparkle's chest, but she didn't accept it."

"You remember, too," she pushed the picture back to me.

Gently, I pushed it back. "I have my own," I told her. "I will remember. Always." Sparkle nodded and clutched the drawing, desperately.

I took my place back on the left of the podium, and the Capitol official took the right, so that Snow could stand on the podium and speak.

"I mourn with you, friends," Snow said, breaking the silence that had existed after my speech. "for these two young people, as I know you mourn with me for the others who didn't make it to the end of the 24th Hunger Games, as well as for my father." Sourly, I noticed he didn't mention Nich. "It is this grief that binds us, making us strong, uniting us as a country." Oh. I saw what he was doing now – diverting everyone's attention. Even though he was now at fault for their deaths (having taken his father's burden), he was making it seem as though it was some unseen enemy's fault. I wasn't buying it, and I thought that several other people weren't either. I became so annoyed by Snow, I was having a hard time keeping myself from smirking or saying something rebellious. So I tuned him out.

He talked for a very long time. I believe that everyone in the crowd was beginning to get annoyed when Snow made his mistake.

"And so, I say we band together in memory of Colin and Elvatorix, and become one. As well –" he cut off abruptly when a small, high voice told him,

"No!"

Snow turned, seemingly confused towards the small sound. "Excuse me?" I saw the bodyguards at the corners of the stage shift.

"No!" the voice repeated, and the figure stepped forward. It was Colin's sister, Sparkle. "You not care 'bout Colin." Shocked murmurs swept through the crowd. Mrs. Fox let out a strangled scream of surprise, and fainted dramatically into another woman's arms.

"What?" Snow was completely confused, gazing at Sparkle. "Of course I do. He was a brave man. He died with honor."

"Honor?" Sparkle screeched "No honor. Just dead. He dead. You're fault."

"My fault?" the bodyguards were getting closer now. I gazed at Sparkle with appreciation. Strong-minded kid. Reminded me of myself.

"YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT!" Sparkle was screeching, pointing a finger accusingly at Snow. "YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT!"

"How is it _my_ fault?" asked Snow in horror "your ancestors brought this on you themselves."

"YOUR FAULT!" Sparkle screeched. The crowd could only stare on in horror as the bodyguards began to push through the crowds. I didn't see why they were so scared of a child – it wasn't like she held a knife or sword. Just words. Words were powerful – very, very powerful.

"You, woman!" Snow seemed to be looking for someone to blame – and he had enough sense in him to know that he couldn't blame a child. Instead, he gestured to Mrs. Shoemaker. "What have you done to make your child think that I killed your son?"

I saw the bodyguards' attention shift to Mrs. Shoemaker. I tightened my hands into fists, one hand reaching slightly towards my pocket, where I had a knife. One shot was all I would need . . . My attention was on Mrs. Shoemaker. What would she say?

She straightened up, which made her quite tall. She shook herself, as though reminder her who she was. "Young President," she said in a proud voice that made me feel quite self-conscious "I was not aware that you are blind."

"What?" Snow didn't understand. I did. A smile was threatening to curl onto my lips, but I pushed it down, one hand in my pocket, fingering the hilt on the blade.

"You must be blind," Mrs. Shoemaker continued "because a three year old can see more than you."

Snow seemed to be regaining himself. "My good lady, are you suggesting that I –" he broke off here, and I saw his Adam's apple moved up and down. "that I killed your son?" It was a deadly accusation, but it was completely true.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

There was a loud gasp. This was treason. Punishable with slow death, and scorn to your name. And at a funeral, no less! The bodyguards came closer, closing in on Mrs. Shoemaker. Sparkle was losing it, clutching the picture of Colin to her chest, and crying loudly.

Mrs. Shoemaker's eyes met mine. In an instant, I understood what she wanted me to do. She wasn't scared to die anymore; she wanted to join her husband and son. But she couldn't take her daughter. She wanted me to keep her for her.

I glanced at Sparkle, crying her heart out in her confusion. The poor child. . . . she was about to lose her only living family. I glanced back to Mrs. Shoemaker. The bodyguards were almost in a complete circle around her, holding dangerous-looking machine guns. She looked desperately back at me, begging me silently.

I gave her a small nod. I would take Sparkle. I would raise her as my own child – with the help of my father, Rayne, Kayton, Estella, and Estella's brother, Issac. We would be her new family. She would be safe, happy, and healthy. I would take Sparkle. But, not only that, I would also give mercy to Mrs. Shoemaker. I would give her a quick death – unlike the slow one that the bodyguards were about to give her.

I took out the knife. Mrs. Shoemaker's eyes widened slightly, but I saw the gratitude in them. The mourners gasped – expecting me to fight the bodyguards, no doubt. I looked for an opening in the mass of guards now surrounding Mrs. Shoemaker, and found one – barely an inch between two bodyguards. It would go straight into Mrs. Shoemaker's heart.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked quickly, and saw Kayton's eyes fixed on Mrs. Shoemaker's face. "Do it, Lystra," she whispered. "Do it now."

I nodded quickly to her, and threw the knife. The last thing that Mrs. Shoemaker saw was my face, and the look of gratitude on her face was enough to ensure me that I had done the right thing. There was a soft thump, a sigh from Mrs. Shoemaker, and the sound of her hitting the ground.

Hardly anyone had seen my knife leave my hand, so there was general confusion. No bodyguard had fired a weapon. So why was Mrs. Shoemaker dead? I didn't wait for them to figure it out. I nodded once to Elvatorix and Colin's bodies, and hurried over to Sparkle. The poor thing was rolling on the ground in pure terror.

"Sparkle?" I reached out my hand towards her. "Sparkle, I need you to come with me."

Sparkle peeked through her hands. "Were you a friend of Colin?"

I nodded. I felt like I knew Colin, even if I really didn't. Wasn't that all that mattered? Sparkle allowed me to pick her up, and I turned to Kayton, Emerald, and Vincent. The funeral was becoming a mob of confusion.

"We should get out of here," I decided.

Later, on the train, Kayton and I stood in my room, gazing at Sparkle, who was sleeping in my bed. I sighed. "What am I going to do with her, Kayton? I don't have any siblings. I have no idea what to do with her."

Kayton put a hand on my shoulder. "Love her," she turned to face me. "I once had a family, Lystra, with a sister just like her," she gestured to Sparkle. "There's only one thing you _can _do with her : love her. Love her with all your heart, and protect her as best you can."

I nodded, looking from Kayton to Sparkle. "We both will."


	49. Chapter 46

_**All right, this chapter is dedicated to everyone reading it. I am having a pretty exciting day, because I just realized that Resistance is really getting popular! It has 4,294 hits! Thank you, thank you guys! You rock!**_

_**Also, this is a fair warning : this is long. Really long. It has 3,928 words! Wow! I did a bunch in this chapter, and I am proud of that. But it is very, very, very long. Enjoy!**_

_**And, lastly, I want everyone to review and tell me what they think : A sequel about Estella's games. I'm considering it . . . so review to let me know what you think!**_

_**Lystra's POV**_

Carrie and Armondo's funeral in District 2 was next. They sat side by side in a glass case. After I gave them their drawings (Carrie as she was in life, Armondo with a big, blundering bear), their coffins were closed. When I asked where they would be put, Kayton told me that they would be put in the family graveyard – a large gallery filled with glass coffins with dead people preserved inside it. I shuddered and turned away from them.

Their family was just like them – big, confident, and strong. Not one of them shed a tear, and they all stood close together, fists clenched, and eyes fixed on the horizon. I practically had to force their mother to hold their pictures.

In three, Luna Garcia and Nicholas Atom were buried with their pictures (Luna as a graceful sea-bird, Nicholas sitting on a chair on a hill, a sad expression in his eyes). Luna just had her father, who seemed just as distant as she was. Nicholas had both parents, who cried loudly; his mother fainted once.

In both of these funerals, we attended banquets afterwards, to celebrate the memories of the dead tributes, and stayed the night on the train, sitting at the station. I was interviewed countless times, and I was beginning to dread the cameras that continuously followed me around, asking me questions about the arena, my pictures, fellow tributes, and, most often, Tanner. I tried to answer truthfully and keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I wasn't too convinced I was succeeding.

Snow didn't show up to either. Apparently, he had chickened out after the experience with Mrs. Shoemaker, and decided not to risk his butt.

I couldn't have cared less.

Anyway, then we were on our way to four.

I sat, perched on the edge of my bed, nervous. Would I be able to save Rayne? This wasn't a Game – or even a funeral. This was life and death. I could make a difference. But could I succeed? Could I save Rayne?

"Lystra?" Sparkle asked. She had been sitting in the corner of the room, munching on cookie – a type of sweet bread for a snack.

"Yes, Sparkle?" I glanced over at the girl, whose face was covered in cookie.

"Why you upset?" Sparkle walked over to me, plopping herself on my lap, and licking her fingers. In the past few days, she had hardly left my side – it was well known that she was traveling with me now, and that I would adopt her. She seemed to trust me completely, and was content, as if I was her mother, and this was her normal routine.

"Upset? I'm not upset."

Sparkle stopped licking her fingers, and looked up at me. Her eyes showed me her disbelief.

"All right," I sighed, shifting on the bed. How could I explain . . . ? "Today, we are going to another funeral, Sparkle."

"Oh." Sparkle still didn't really understand funerals and death – but she knew that she should be quiet and sad when there. She never cried, however, only standing very close to me, or letting me hold her on my hip. "Sad."

"Yes, sad," I said, hesitating. "But we are going to meet someone tomorrow."

"Who?" Sparkle's eyes were wide, looking at me.

"Her name is Rayne." I hesitated. "She was on the television. Did you see her?"

"Yes," Sparkle's eyes clouded with confusion again. "Mother said she dead."

I marveled at the way that Sparkle could speak of Mrs. Shoemaker in that way. Did she know that her mother was dead? I didn't know, and I didn't want to be the one to tell her.

"No, she's not dead." I told her. "Just in a very deep sleep."

Sparkle giggled. "She sleepy?"

I chuckled, and tickled her under the chin. "Very. But now she has to wake up."

"We wake her up?"

I nodded. "Yes, but no one can know. Quiet." I placed a finger to my mouth.

"Quiet," Sparkle mimicked my finger.

"Very quiet." I told her. "And then, Rayne can come with us."

Sparkle sighed and leaned back against the wall. There was a moment of silence. Then Sparkle asked, "Where we going?"

"To my house," I answered.

"What like?" she asked, a bit sleepily.

I hesitated, thinking of my home in the arena, with the ghostly arrangements. Though I'd never brought myself to think it outright, I was scared that I would go home and find my District a city of ghosts. But I forced myself to think positive.

"There are lots of trees," I said "and other plants. We take food off the trees, and the air always smells sweet. It's loud, and there's lots of people, but everyone's kind. Well –" I cut off abruptly, considering. "The Peacekeepers where you're from are nice, but where I come from they're mean. We have to stay away from them."

"They hit?"

I shuddered when I thought of the public beatings in the square. "Yes. They hit."

"Hit bad."

"Very bad," I agreed. "But if you stay away from them, you're fine. And there's lots of good people."

"Who?"

"My dad," I say. My eyes clouded unexpectedly, and I suddenly wanted to see him very badly.

"My dad is dead," Sparkle told me. "Mommy miss him. She says he strong; handsome."

My lips curled up slightly. "My dad's thin as a stick," I told her fondly, "and not much in the way of looks, but he has a good heart."

"Mommy?" she asked, referring to my mother.

I sucked in a deep breath. "No Mommy. She died."

"Oh," Sparkle said. She sat up, meeting my eyes, and patting my hand. "I sorry."

"It's all right," I said, letting the tears fill my eyes.

"Who else?" Sparkle prompted.

"My friend, Estella," I said. "She's just a kid, and she doesn't have a mommy or daddy."

"Oh," Sparkle said. "Sad."

"Yes," I nodded. "Very sad. But she has her brother, Issac, and she's happy. Issac's small – almost as small as you." I added fondly. Sparkle grinned.

"They live with you?" she asked

"Us," I corrected. "And I hope so. Perhaps Father shall adopt them too."

Sparkle clapped her hands. "Yay!" she called out.

"Yay," I echoed, though quieter. I was surprised that we had such a big family now. Father, Rayne, Sparkle, Estella, Issac, and me. I wondered if the house would fit us all. It was then that I remembered that we would get a new, bigger house in the Victor's Village, where we would be neighbors with Kayton. There would be plenty of room for us all.

Clad in my black mourning gown, I carried Sparkle (in her matching gown) to our spot at the funeral, which was at the edge of the district, right beside a monsterous cliff, where no fish venturned, and no fisherman ever fished. This was the burial ground of District 4.

Another Capitol official went on about Rayne and her district partner, Peter. He made them sound so important, so delicate, that I didn't recognize them. Instead, I ignored him and looked at the families.

I found it so interesting to see their families. Peter's was large, like Elvatorix's had been, with seemingly endless aunts and uncles that had some similarities to him. But it was Rayne's I focused on. She had only an older brother, two aunts, and uncle, and 3 grandparents. They all appeared extremely depressed as they gazed at Rayne. I was terribly tempted to tell them that she was alive, to put an end to their sorrow, but I didn't. They might insist that Rayne stay with them, but it was vital she came with me to 11, where we could hide her.

Rayne herself looked completely still in her casket of glass, dead to the world. Yet she was alive – she had to be. I focused on her face, and, maybe it was just me imagining, but I thought I saw her lips move ever so slightly.

The Capitol official moved aside to let me speak. I nodded gratefully at him, and stepped up.

"I am happy to say that I knew Rayne and Peter pretty well," I said "Both of them were in our alliance, and both were brave. However, when Peter died at the Cornucopia, I felt one emotion more bitterly than any other : regret. I had only known Peter a short while, and I could already tell that he was the kind of person you can rely on. I only wish I could have gotten to know him better. And, that being said, I drew this drawing for Peter."

Here I lifted the drawing I had done of Peter – leaning against a fence, grinning, hands in his pockets, and whistling a tune. I stepped forward and handed the picture to Peter. The feeling of his dead, cold, clammy hands was scary, and I wanted to leap a hundred miles away. But I resisted, standing above him. "Remember us, Peter," I said. "As we were; are. And, in return," I turned to Peter's family, holding up the other picture. "We shall remember you, as you were; are." When I handed her the picture, his mother sobbed a thank you. I inclined my head in response, and turned to Rayne.

"I am happy to say that I had the chance to know Rayne pretty well," I said "We were some of the final tributes together, and I always felt a certain connection to Rayne – like she was my sister." I knew I was blabbing, but I was busy staring at Rayne, trying to believe she was alive. Sparkle, still beside me, murmured, "Rayne?" but she had the sense to stay quiet.

I held up the picture of Rayne, half submerged in the waters of the sea, laughing joyfully, with a seashell in one hand and her token, the silver fish, in another. She was full of happiness and life. As she truly was now. But no one else could know that.

Carefully, I put the picture into Rayne's hands, which felt just as dead as Peter's. I hesitated a moment, feeling for a pulse, but I found none. What if she really was dead? What if she died from starvation or dehydration? I gulped, and let go quickly. What if it was too late?

I forced the thought out of my mouth, and held up the other picture of Rayne. I gave the picture to her brother. "Remember her," I whispered "Forever. Do you promise me?"

He nodded, a tear going down his cheek. "Forever. I promise."

"Good," I said, and if my voice trembled a bit right there, that was no one's business.

" . . . and so, we return them to the place where their ancestors lie." The Capitol speaker finished, and motioned to the men to pick up the coffins. I flinched, because I knew what came next. Four men picked up Peter's coffin.

"Goodbye, Peter," all the assembled murmured as one. The men walked closer to the cliff, and threw the coffin. Below, there was a faint splash. Silence.

The men picked up Rayne's coffin. "Goodbye, Rayne." Then Rayne was toppling down, down, into the ocean, in the burial grounds of District 4. I watched carefully where she landed, because I knew I had to go down there, too. She seemed in a shallower part, and the coffin appeared uncracked, but I knew it might not stay that way. She might float out into the sea, or her coffin might break, and she might drown.

I shuddered and looked away. This couldn't happen. She would be fine, right there, waiting for me that night. I fingered the vial in my pocket. She would be fine. She had to be.

The feast was delicious. It was my first time having sea food, and this was the best sea food ever made. I began to feel jealous of the people of District 4 – getting to eat this stuff every day. . . Sparkle, on the other hand, didn't like it at all. After several tries, I finally gave up, laughing, and the chef brought her out a plate of bread and cookies.

I tried to put on a face of happiness in the feast, and sadness in the memories of Peter and Rayne, but I was really very worried underneath. What if Rayne was already dead? It was eating me inside out.

Halfway through the feast, I went onto the dance floor, dancing with Sparkle. She laughed and giggled, enjoying herself thoroughly. I laughed also, covering my worry.

"Up! Up!" Sparkle requested, and I picked the child up, spinning around the dance floor. "Wheee!" she cried "Wheee!" I laughed long and loud, the world a blur around us. At that moment, I wasn't too worried about bumping into someone else.

"Dizzy!" giggled Sparkle "Dizzy! Stop!"

I obliged, spinning to a stop. "Whoa!" I cried as I tried to get my balance. "Whoa!" Sparkle echoed "Whoa!"

Laughing, we went back to the table, sitting down by Kayton.

"Ka-ton, we spin!" giggled Sparkle "Round and round and round!"

"Round and round and round," I echoed. My head was still spinning, like the room was tipping over. . .

"Whoops, Sparkle," Kayton said lightly "I think that Lystra's going to fall over."

"Whoopsies, Lystra!" Sparkle grabbed onto me, as though to support me. "Whoopsies!"

I laughed shakily and tickled her under the chin. "Whoopsies!"

We all laughed, and I regained my balance. I exchanged a glance with Kayton. She knew what I had to do that night. I needed to get away from this feast soon.

"Where are Emerald, Vincent, and the prep team?" I asked, looking about.

"Emerald left," Kayton said. "Said she had to go prepare the schedule for tomorrow." I nodded. That was very much like Emerald.

"And the others?"

Kayton motioned to where Vincent was speaking to Peter's families in calming, reassuring tones as they cried. Guiltily, I wondered if I should join them. But I'd already given them my regrets several times. Nearby, the prep team was showing the people of District 4 their "amazingly amazing makeovers!" Their audience seemed disgusted, but the prep team took disgust for awe, and we thoroughly basking in what they imagined to be 'fame'.

On my lap, Sparkle yawned. "Tired," she told me.

I glanced up at Kayton. "What time is it?" I asked

"Two hours til midnight," she answered. I understood – I couldn't leave the party until midnight, which meant I had to wait two hours.

"Tired," Sparkle repeated. "Nap."

"All right, all right," I looked around for an open couch. I found one, and gestured to it. "Care to join us, Kayton?" I asked.

She shook her head, nodding to the desert cart. "That beauty's been calling to me for some time now. Time to give in."

I laughed, and took Sparkle to the open couch, where I laid her down so that her head was in my lap. She was asleep in an instant. Carefully, I smoothed her brown curls. The poor child . . .

I heard a cough. I glanced up to see a reporter standing in front of me. He was obviously from the Capitol – having bright blue cat ears, eyes, and tail. His tail kept swinging around, as though he was eager to speak to me. Sighing, I pushed back my bangs and looked at him warily. "What?"

"Miss Lystra," he said "may I ask you a few questions?" He had a kind, soft voice that reminded me of a purr, and a polite attitude, so I nodded my approval. He motioned to a camera crew to come over.

"Lystra Fay Gull," he said into the camera "the newest victor of the Hunger Games, is standing here, with me, stunningly handsome" he winked at the camera "Wild, Wild Tom." I found it very hard not to roll my eyes at this point, as the cameras turned to me.

"So, tell us Lystra," Wild, Wild Tom said. "How does it feel to have lost so many friends, specifically Rayne Issa?"

I was confused. Tom seemed to be asking me questions that begged for words of rebellion. Did he know what he was doing? Or was he really just that clueless?

"It hurts," I said slowly "knowing that I won't see them until . . . until . . ." I left the sentence open. Obviously, I meant until the 74th Hunger Games. But the audience would think that I meant in the afterlife, which was much better. The less they knew, the better.

"I understand, completely," Tom ventured to sit beside me, and placed a hand on my shoulder. I shot him a look of pure warning, and he shuddered slightly, withdrawing his hand, tail shaking nervously. "Erm . . . Lystra . . ." he said, trying to recompose himself. I could practically feel him melting under the effect my eyes were giving. "Tanner . . . Tanner, tell us about Tanner."

"What is there to tell?" I asked, looking away from him and into the camera lense. I could see my reflection there – a powerful girl with persistant eyes and deep anger . . . but in there . . . there was also infinite sorrow. It almost shocked me to see how deeply my pain showed. "I have lost the love of my life. No one else can compare."

"N . . ." Tom was working up his courage "Not even Wild, Wild Tom?" he winked at the camera. I turned to him, shooting him another look.

"No."

I can practically hear the hooting laughter of the Capitol in the background. Tom looks hurt, but I know it's just a staged face. "Are you sure? Because I'm single!" he again winked at the camera.

"I'm sure."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

He let out a fake sigh of exasperation, and I knew the audience was hooting with laughter. I shot him another warning glance, and he moved on to the next question.

"So, Lystra, what do you think of this party?"

_**Rayne's POV**_

I was so extremely tired . . . the world was an endless flash of colors, and I floated through them, completely at peace . . . I never grew tired of the endless sleeping or dreaming . . . it was all one peaceful moment. . . Was this death? If so, I didn't know why I was so scared of death before. It seemed perfectly peaceful and nice . . . I didn't have to worry about Panem or the Hunger Games or my friends and family anymore. I didn't have to worry about hunger. Those were all behind me.

This was lovely, to have no worries.

Ah . . .

_**Lystra's POV**_

It was past midnight, and Tom was still interviewing me. I kept yawning, hoping he'd take a hint, but the guy was too numb-skulled to notice that I wanted to get away. Finally, Kayton came to my resque.

"Lystra," she walked up, hand on hip, glaring at the camera. "Time to go back to the train. Emerald will have a fit if you don't get your beauty sleep."

It was amazing how she got me out of the situation, and charmed the camera as well. Tom chuckled loudly, winking at me. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" he asked, with another wink at the camera. "Well, this has been Wild, Wild Tom with the victor of the 24th Hunger Games, Lystra Fay Gull."

"C'mon, Lystra," Kayton helped me up, taking Sparkle from me. I was glad – the child had gotten a bit heavy. As we walked away from the party, several more reporters tried to approach me, but Kayton and I waved them off, yawning loudly and stretching. Hopefully, they would assume that we were going to bed.

When we reached the train, I put Sparkle in my bed. Kayton and I stared at each other a moment, and then I sighed. "Well, we know the plan," I said. She nodded.

"Will you be able to do it?" she wanted to know

I shrugged. "Depends. Maybe."

She nodded. "Good luck. Bring her back, all right?"

I nodded. "I will."

"Bring who back?"

Kayton and I both jumped at the sound of Sparkle's voice. The child had sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes. "Bring who back?" she asked again. Kayton and I exchanged a glance.

"Sparkle, remember when I told you that I had to go wake someone up? And that they would come home with us?"

"Rayne." She remembered. Fine memory, that child had.

I nodded. "Yes, Rayne. I have to go get her now."

Sparkle lifted her arms towards me. "Me go too."

I shared a glance with Kayton. "No, Sparkle. I have to go alone. You can stay here and sleep."

"No," Sparkle crossed her arms. "No sleepy. Want to see Rayne."

I sighed, looking at Kayton for advice. She leaned over Sparkle and said, "Well, Sparkle, I'm not going either."

Sparkle met her eyes. "You not?"

Kayton shook her head. "No, I'm not. I'm going to stay here and get ready for Rayne. Would you like to help me?"

"Help." Sparkle repeated, eyes lighting up. "What I do?"

"You could go ask the cook for some food," I suggested "I'll bet that Rayne's really hungry."

"I hungry!" Sparkle grinned. "I get cookies!"

I nodded. "Cookies and anything else he'll give you. Enough for Kayton, Rayne, me, and you." I touched her nose when I said 'you,' and she giggled.

"For!" she cried, counting on her fingers. "One, two, tee, for!" Kayton and I both laughed, but suddenly the room became very serious.

"No one can know Rayne is here, Sparkle," I told her "you cannot tell anyone."

Sparkle looked confused. "Why?"

"Because . . . because . . ." I looked at Kayton for prompting here. I didn't have any idea what to tell Sparkle – the truth wouldn't do.

"Because she's playing a game," Kayton said.

"Hide and seek?" Sparkle giggled.

"Yes, hide and seek," I told her "and she's hiding, so we can't tell anyone, all right?"

Sparkle nodded obediently. "All right."

"Good," I stood and turned to Rayne. "The room's de-bugged?"

She nodded. "Completely, as well as the hall and the entrance room."

"But for how long?"

"In the room, it's permanent, but the hall and entrance room is until 5 a.m." she gave me a worried look. "Is that long enough?"

I nodded. "Perfect."

"Yay!" Sparkle clapped her hands, bouncing up and down on the bed "Hide and Seek! Hide and Seek!" she giggled, falling onto the bed.

"Shh," I told her, picking her up. "Careful, little monkey. We don't want you to fall." Then I sat her down and glanced at both of them.

"I'll be back," I promised. "With Rayne."


	50. Chapter 47

_**I apologize for the delay, everyone! My laptop's charging cord broke and I just now got my new one. So, let us continue with the story!**_

_**Lystra's POV**_

Getting to the burial grounds was no problem. I was beginning to learn that people didn't see intruders unless they were looking – and why would Lystra Fay Gull, victor of the 24th Hunger Games, be sneaking around District 4 at midnight when she could be at a party?

At the burial ground, there were a few people gazing down into the depths of the waters. Whether they were friends of Peter and Rayne, I didn't know. Maybe they were mourning someone else. I didn't particularly care, as long as they didn't see me. I crouched behind a rock and waited.

It took 15 minutes, but the final guy finally decided that he should get some sleep, and walked away. I took a deep breath, and looked down the cliff.

Immediately, I wished I hadn't. My head began to spin, and I stumbled back, afraid of falling. I fell to the ground and curled into a ball, shaking. It took several moments for me to calm down, and when I looked down again, I was a bit more prepared.

The drop was at least 500 feet. At the bottom, it was almost completely dark, but I could clearly see the glass coffins, some cracked and open, others just laying there. Some bodies were floating about, and I shuddered. The waves crashed into the cliff loudly, and there were plenty of sharp rocks. I had to force myself to look away.

I found a rock that looked sturdy, and tied a length of rope around it. Then, carefully, I threw the other end of the rope into the water. It took a moment, but I heard the splash below. Gulping, I closed my eyes and focused on a picture of Rayne in my head. Was she alive? So many, many things could go wrong. . . Could I really risk my life for her – whom I had only known for less than a few weeks? It would be so easy to save myself and walk away . . .

But I couldn't do it. I could save Rayne's life . . . if she wasn't already dead . . . I pushed that thought out of my head. She couldn't be dead. I had already gone too far to find her head. I shook my head angrily for thinking such thoughts, and stood at the edge of the cliff.

I took a deep breath, focusing on Rayne's picture once more. Then I lowered myself off the side of the cliff, grabbing the rope. Slowly, I began to climb down.

_**Rayne's POV**_

I never wanted to wake from the peace. I had never had a luxury as this. Ah . . . sweet, sweet peace . . .

_**Lystra's POV**_

I found the climb to be extremely treacherous, and I nearly fell several times. I thought very carefully about the climb, testing each ledge before I put my foot down. I was nearly to the bottom when I thought, _I'm never, ever, __**ever**__ doing this again. EVER._

_**Rayne's POV**_

Peace . . .

_**Lystra's POV**_

The shallow water was only two yards away. All I had to do was jump . . . I gulped, and closed my eyes, gripping the rope with a death grip. It wasn't until that moment that I realized that I was terrified, with sweat all over my trembling body.

A cold wave crashed over me, making my colder, and the sharp taste of salt onto my lips. I shuddered and pictured a boat. Rayne had surely dived into the water from farther deeps before . . . I could do it too. I _had_ to get down there! I squeezed my eyes shut more, and blindly jumped.

_**Rayne's POV**_

I wish I could say that I heard Lystra splashing into the water to save me, but I didn't. I was still basking in the darkness, the calm, and the peace that was my endless sleep.

_**Lystra's POV**_

My jump wasn't too successful. I landed on a sharp rock that pierced my shoulder/neck area pretty badly. I'm pretty sure that I blacked out, and if it wasn't for the salt water that I tried to inhale, I might have been out a while.

Instead, I bolted up, coughing up salt water and crying out in pain at the sharp throbs of pain in my neck. A wave came over me, slamming me into a coffin, and making my neck throb more. Somewhere in my head, I knew that the salt water would only help the wound, but right now it only made it worse. Once the wave was gone, I looked at the coffin behind me.

There was only bones, stacked in the bottom.

I shuddered and struggled away from the coffin, through the water, unable to take my eyes from it. The remains of a human being were in there . . . I forced myself to turn away, banishing the thoughts of the dead tributes, and the wonder if Rayne was still alive away. More than anything else, at this moment, I feared that I would find Rayne in her casket, dead. But I put those thoughts from my head and gazed around. Where was Rayne? She could be anywhere . . . I sighed, preparing myself for the gruesome sights I was about to see, and began gazing quickly into the glass coffins, gazing out as quickly as possible.

Most of the caskets were filled with bones, but a few still held the recently deceased, a body in once piece with glazed eyes. These were the caskets that I hated most. I quickly waded around the watery graveyard, searching for Rayne.

Slowly, I tired. I wasn't a strong swimmer, and the current was strong here. With a sinking heart, I realized that I might never find Rayne amongst the coffins here. Sighing, I felt for the vial in my pocket, to make sure that it was still there, and sure enough, I felt the vial through the folds of the cloth. I gazed with sinking eyes at the seemingly endless piles of caskets. This was fruitless. There was no way that I'd find Rayne.

But still . . . I couldn't very well leave an innocent person to die, could I? No, I wouldn't leave until I couldn't do any more.

I was pretty close there already, I thought, as I stood, swaying slightly as the current came in. I took a deep, slow, calming breath, and continued my search for a little longer, until the current pushed me over, sending me tumbling towards the cliff. I came up sputtering and gasping, my nose and mouth stinging, and full of salt water. I sat there, wiping my nose and spitting out water for a moment, dazed. Then I glanced around at the coffins around me. None had Rayne in them. Sighing, I walked back towards the sea, checking more coffins.

It wasn't long until the water continued to toss me – once even dragging me frightfully close to the sea. I always got up afterwards, wiping the salt from myself, and moving on. I was tiring quickly, but I wasn't about to give up that easily. I was the stinking winner of the Hunger Games!

True as that may be, I soon found myself tumbling with the waves again. When my head slammed into a coffin, I didn't move for a long moment, just staying where I was, too exhausted to move; too stubborn to give up. Then I rubbed my head and moaned. That was going to leave a bruise. Slowly, I lifted my head. I was in the center of the watery graveyard once more. Slowly, I gazed into the coffin that I had hit my head on, quickly looking away.

But then I looked back. Was I so tired that I was imagining . . . ? But, no, there was Rayne, peaceful as ever in her coffin. I stared for a long moment, and then let out an quiet, excited whoop. Then I stared at it a bit longer. Suddenly, I wondered something : How was I going to open the coffin?

My stomach dropped out of my body. So close. I was so close, and . . . I couldn't open the coffin. I looked around for a rock of some kind to break it, but there were none. Just sand. And random floating body parts. And coffins.

Sighing, I realized that I had no choice. Preparing myself to pain, I punched the glass coffin.

Glass went everywhere – into the air, Rayne's body, but mostly my fist. It was a bloody mess, and it stung and pulsed. Water splashed onto it, and the pain magnified. I flinched and buried my hand in my shirt. Shaking slightly, my mind numbing from pain, I used the other hand to grab the vial, which shook it my hand. I brought the cork to my mouth, and tugged it out, and then, bent down to Rayne's glass-covered form. Her lips were barely open. Carefully, I poured the purple contents of the vial into her mouth. I didn't move. I didn't breath. My hand throbbed painfully, and I waited . . .

And nothing happened.

I stared at Rayne. Had she already died – from lack of food or water, or perhaps air in the coffin? I shivered. This could not be. She _had_ to be alive. But if she was alive, why wasn't the vial's contents working?

And then, miraculously, Rayne's s form jutted up from laying down into a sitting position. Her eyes looked around, unfocused, and she too had bleeding cuts from the glass, but she was alive! I couldn't believe it, and I'll admit to having tears in my eyes as Rayne looked at me.

"L-Lystra?" her voice wasn't stable "Where am I? Ar – ar – are you dead, too?"

I laughed slightly, and leaned forward to give her a hug. "No, Rayne. We're both alive. And . . . you're in District 4's graveyard."

Rayne looked around. "How? Lystra, I – I thought I was dead. Why . . . why?"

I looked at her seriously. "Not now, Rayne. First we have to get out of here. Can you walk around? Some of those cuts look pretty bad."

Rayne was coming to, and her expression was sharper. "No, I'll be fine. How did the glass break?"

I showed her my fist. "I . . . um . . . punched the glass to break it."

Rayne stared at my fist. "Why would you do that?"

"I had to get you out of there," I shrugged "and I didn't have anything else to use."

Rayne's stomach rumbled loudly. "I am _so_ hungry right now," she muttered. Then she looked to me. "You said we had to get out of here. But where are we going?"

"To the train," I answered. "it will take us to my home – after all the stops for the funerals."

"Th – the other's?" Rayne asked. I nodded. It was still painful to say it. "Who won?"

"Me." I said quietly. Rayne shakily reached out and patted me on the back. "Let's go," I said, using my good hand to grab one of her hands and helping her up. She was shaking, she was so hungry. "There's food back at the train," I quickly promised.

She only nodded, gazing around. "How'd you get down here?"

"A rope," I pointed to the cliff, not far off. Rayne only nodded, and we began trudging to the cliffs. I immediately spotted the rope – it shone like a beacon against the rock. Rayne made her way through the water like she had been doing this her whole life – which, of course, she had. I, however, had a harder time. The salt water made my hand hurt more, and not having a hand only made moving around harder. But eventually we made our way to the rope, where we stopped.

"Are you going to be able to climb that thing?"

I realized that, with my injured hand, I wouldn't be able to. "But I have to get out of here," I pointed out.

"And you will," Rayne was just as clever as I had remembered. "I'll climb up, and then pull you up."

"Can _you_ do that?" I asked, well aware that Rayne was extremely weak right now.

"If I have to, and I do," she answered. I nodded, and she began to climb, quickly out of sight. Only a few moments later, she tugged on the rope twice, and I carefully tied the end of the rope around my hips, and grabbed the rope tightly with my one good hand. This was about to get interesting. I tugged the rope twice, and Rayne began to hull me up.

Slowly I rose up the cliff. Many times, I bumped into the cliff, against my hand, and I gritted my teeth against the pain. I could get it fixed later. Now, I just had to get back to the train. I spun around as I gained height, and, before I knew it, I was struggling over the side. I gazed before me, to see Rayne gazing at the nearby houses.

"What is it, Rayne?" I asked

"My family," she said quietly, pointing to a house. "lives there. They . . ." she trailed off, turning back to me. "They think I'm dead, don't they?"

"Yes," I said quietly. "But you can't go see them, Rayne. Your life is in the balance. It's best that they think you're dead."

Rayne looked extremely saddened by this, but she only nodded slightly. "I trust you, Lystra," she said. "Know that if I didn't, I wouldn't be leaving right now."

"I'm glad you understand," I told her, and led her into the shadows towards the train. But I couldn't help but notice that she lagged behind slightly as she gazed at her childhood world that I was making her leave, without even saying good-bye. I felt bad, but I didn't have a choice here. To keep Rayne safe and living, she would have to come with me.


	51. Chapter 48

_**Lystra's POV**_

Over the next few days, we settled into a kind of routine. I woke up with the sun, going to the kitchens to request some food – enough, as I said, to feed myself, Sparkle, and Kayton breakfast. When I returned to the room with the food, Rayne and Kayton would be sitting at the newly placed table, deep in conversation – Rayne wanted to know about District 11; about the people, the houses, the food; she wanted to know about the customs; she wanted to know if there was any sea. But, above all of that, she wanted to know of the future. Kayton and I could tell her very little on this subject, but one thing, above all was sure : Rayne would be spending a _lot_ of time indoors over the next few years . . . that is to say . . . the rest of her life.

Depressing as though this thought was, we were all eager for the train ride to be over. I had found a yearning in my heart for the perfumed air of District 11, for my dad, and for Estella and her younger brother, Issac. My small room in the train, roomy for one person, began to feel like a small prison for the three people living in it, one 24-hours, and Kayton practically living in there too, though she slept in her own room. We were beginning to find that there was simply not enough room for us all; Rayne slept in a chair while Sparkle and I slept in the bed. Trash littered the floor, and Rayne's nerves were extremely high strung. She had never been inside so long before, and continuously paced the floor, wringing her hands. Sparkle watched Rayne paced, confused. She liked Rayne very much, but not her in her snapping mood. Instead, she turned to Kayton, who proved to be full of clever dances and songs to pass the time. And, before we knew it, we were all walking around the train, humming random bars of "The Falling Apple" or "Pumpkins" or "1, 2, 3, Seeds".

I, however, spent the time looking at my drawings. Occasionally, I drew more; of Rayne and myself, escaping the watery graveyard of District 4; of Sparkle laughing and singing. But mostly, I just looked through the pictures. I asked Kayton to get me a box for them, and she brought me a sort of chest. Carefully, I arranged the pictures into the chest, occasionally bringing them out to examine them.

Slowly, we went through all of the districts, and I gave the pictures of the tributes to themselves, and their families. I was shocked to tears in District 7, where the body of Mazie was actually Mazie, whom the young President had killed. He, however, did not seemed startled by this fact, and treated Mazie's body with the same kind of cold respect he had for the others.

The following day, we buried Totsie, which made me quite as sad, though I managed not to cry. Sparkle's hand gripped mine tightly – she remembered Totsie from the television, and was confused by the fact that she was there, apparently asleep.

And then, in 9, we buried the two adopted careers, Salena Flamel, and Carter James. I regretted their loss as much as the others, and my words of sorrow were as genuine as they had been when I spoke for Totsie, Mazie, Luna, and Rayne.

In 10, we buried Echo, which I found also startling and saddening. Some days, I thought during the funeral, I felt as though the sorrow of all the losses were laying down on me, creating a mound of earth, suffocating me. But when I awoke the next morning, those thoughts were gone as Sparkle encouraged me to sing "1, 2, 3, Seeds" to her.

And then, the next day, was the day that we were in District 12, burying Lillibet and Spade. After my annual speech at the funeral, and the usual feast afterwards, I headed back to the train. I was tired, and the next day, I was going home. I wanted to be well rested.

So I put Sparkle to bed, and Rayne fell asleep too, on her chair in the corner of the room. I, too, tried to sleep, but found myself incapable of the action. I tossed and turned in the bed until I was forced to accept that I wouldn't be sleeping that night. Silently, I swung my legs out of the bed, standing up, and going over to the desk, where I took out the chest, and flicked through the pictures, the eerie silence and peace coming over me.

And that's when the instinct told me what I needed to do.

I grabbed the chest, and walked out of the train, sticking to the shadows, hoping that the cameras wouldn't see me. I had bigger things to worry about that night. I stuck to the backs of the dark, bland houses, walking along the iron electric, humming fence, not knowing where I was going exactly, but knowing I would know when I was there.

And then I was standing in a small meadow of flowers. I knew this was the right place.

I knew what I had to do now. I bent down, and began to scoop out the dirt of the meadow, making a hole into which I placed the chest, covering it up again. I glanced back at it a moment, feeling slightly regretful. All of my memories of the last horrible weeks were in that chest. But then my hand fluttered to my heart. They were all there. Someone else would need to see them; later, not now.

And, with that, I left the meadow, heading back for the train, which I entered. Upon reaching my room, I gazed upon the sleeping Rayne and Sparkle. They were my life now, along with Kayton, Dad, Estella, and Issac. The others : Mazie, Totise, Nich, Echo, Luna, Tanner, Lillibet, Spade, and the others, were part of the past now. Their memories deserved to be treasured, remembered, but left behind. I had to leave my grief.

And, gazing upon my sleeping friends, I found that I could easily do this.

And, with a slight sigh, I climbed into the bed. Sparkle cuddled closer to me, her thumb in her mouth. The sight of the made up my mind, and as I pictured Tanner, I knew this was what he had wanted. A single tear trickled down my cheek as I fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.


	52. Chapter 49

_**Lystra's POV**_

I gazed upon the small, shabby houses, and the people in the streets, small and shabby, to match the houses. The air was perfumed with the smell of the fruit, and I remembered that the apples were going out of season. The late bloomers would be taken from the trees soon. Somehow, this saddened me. Nobody ever asked what happened to the apples afterwards. So what would happen to _me_, the Golden Apple, now that the action was over?

Reporters screamed my name in the streets, asking me what it was like to be home; if I wanted to see my father; how I felt about the funeral. . . but I didn't listen to them. I continued walking, clad in my black gown with Sparkle in my arms, through the streets, drowning in memories and sorrow. The questions they asked were painful, and I wasn't sure if I could answer them just yet.

Slowly, I walked through the crowds, and to the stage where I was reaped. I gazed at the place, which had so changed in many ways, and remained the same in others. There were the people of District 11, in front of me, shabby and sorrowing as always. Emerald was standing in the middle of the stage, wearing one of her ridiculous sparkling outfits, and all was silent. They all stared at me with wide eyes, full of emotion. Some seemed afraid of me. Others were glad to see me. I don't believe that they knew what to expect. They hadn't changed.

But I had.

My eyes looked for Tanner's family. They were on one of the two podiums just off the stage; Mr. and Mrs. Lawson, and poor, poor, tiny little Kathi. All three had red, puffy faces, as though they had been crying. Mrs. Lawson was sobbing, her head in her husband's shoulder, who looked tired as he patted her back, small tears trickling down his own face. Kathi, however, stood in front of her parents, arms at her side. She did not grope for human contact, and did not cry to show her emotion. She caught my eye, and gave me a small, sad smile, that I returned before quickly looking away.

I glanced towards the other podium, where my own father should have been. My heart beat faster at the thought of seeing him, but he wasn't there. My heart fell, and I wondered whether he was ill. This made my heart pound even faster. I wasn't going to lose my dad, my only living relative. Not now. Not ever.

I looked in the crowd for Estella and Issac, but if they were there, I couldn't spot them. My heart beat faster. It was against the law to miss District meetings such as these, unless you were on your deathbed. I wouldn't let them die. I just wouldn't. I hugged Sparkle close, and pushed the thought from my mind. I then turned to look at the thing I had been avoiding.

Tanner was quite still in his casket, eyes closed, and hands folded as politely as they were in life. His dead face was sincere, and his shirt covered the stomach wound that Elvatorix had given him, so that he might have been sleeping. Part of me yearned that to be true, but the other part reminded the other that the past night, I had decided to move on. Tanner was dead. Gone. I couldn't get him back.

But I couldn't stop looking at him, either.

A Capitol official began to speak of Tanner – how dedicated he was to his family, how polite, and how caring. He said that the best weeks of his life were spent with me, in the Hunger Games. I thought that I would rather he have never been put in the Games, never meet me, than to have him dead. Dead for me. The official's words were empty. Heartless.

I stepped forward next, and I gave Tanner the picture I had made for him. It was a picture of him and me, holding hands. I gave Kathi the copy. Then I strode back to face Tanner, and, abandoning my normal, planned speech, said,

"Tanner was an amazing person. He made me see things I never did before, and I shall never be the same because of him. He taught me . . ." I hesitated here, swallowing the knot in my throat. "he taught me how to love. He taught me that, although someone's body may die, the love does not, and neither do they."

I lifted my eyes to the sky, wondering where Tanner was now. "What you see here, in this casket, is not Tanner. It is only his dead shell. There was a person under that shell that I loved," I chocked on my next words "with all my heart. And I still do. Because his shell is dead, that doesn't mean he is. He lives on. He lives in our hearts. He lives in the air, flying with the wind. He lives with the trees. He is free – more free than any of us. He is happy."

It wasn't much of an ending, but I felt it was enough. It made Mrs. Lawson cry even harder, though Mr. Lawson looked over his wife's head at me, looking slightly surprised, as though it was the first time he'd ever seen me. Kathi had a single tear going down her cheek, and she gave me a grateful look. I nodded at her. We'd have time to talk about this later – hours, years, maybe. Plenty of time.

At the feast, I didn't feel sad. I was happy – happy for Tanner, rejoicing his memory, and his sacrifice. I laughed, I danced. Sparkle and I got on the stage and dedicated a few verses of "1, 2, 3, Seeds" to Tanner's memory. Kayton and I told jokes, and laughed. We ate until we could eat no more. We talked to reporters. I even danced with my prep team for a while, after which they hugged me and told me that they would miss me. I could only smile slightly. I would miss them – silly and stupid and naïve as they were.

In the middle of the party, the Lawsons approached me. Seeing their grim faces, I led them to the side, to a vacant bench, and waved off the persistent reporters. The Lawsons and I stared at each other. Then, finally, Mrs. Lawson let out a small wail and threw her arms around my neck. Surprised, I staggered, and then returned the gesture. I understood. We had a common grief, and should band together. I held her while she cried, closing my eyes, but I didn't cry. No, Tanner was in a better place. Mr. Lawson looked at me with that same appraising, almost surprised look as he had at the funeral. Kathi just smiled that grim, sad smile.

Finally, Mrs. Lawson pulled away. "I – I – I'm sorry," she stuttered to me. "I – I just – "

"I understand," I cut her off with an understanding smile. She sniffled and nodded.

"Lystra," Mr. Lawson's voice was deep, and had the calm, sincere quality that Tanner's had. "We wanted to thank you for what you said at the funeral." He gripped his wife's hand very tightly. "It helped us in our grief."

I nodded slightly. "I appreciate that, Mr. Lawson."

At my words, Mrs. Lawson let out another small wail. "S-s-such a polite girl!" and then she was hugging me again. Mr. Lawson gave me an apologetic look, but I shook my head. Mrs. Lawson had my desperate grief. After a few moments, she pulled away again.

"Th – thank you," she sniffled. "you made him so happy – I could see it in his eyes."

My heart melted slightly at the grief in her words, and perhaps a little bitterness. "It's all right, Mrs. Lawson," I told her. "I love him, Mrs. Lawson, as you did. As you still do."

She blew her nose. "Such beautiful words – as pretty as those eyes that show me that you speak true."

I blushed. "Please, Mrs. Lawson, you're embarrassing me."

"Now, I won't have that," she said suddenly. "You aren't to call me 'Mrs. Lawson,' child. Call me Edith."

"I couldn't – "

"Please, you're family," said Edith "Tanner loved you. That's good enough for me."

And then we were in each other's arms, crying again. And I discovered something in her arms. It was all right to feel sad that he was gone. It was all right to cry. And cry I did. I felt that I had no fluids left in my body when Edith pulled away, and we linked arms and headed over to the food tables to share memories of Tanner.

Then, finally, at 2 a.m., the party was over, and I walked with the reporters, the prep team, Vincent, Kayton, and Sparkle, to the Victor's Village, where all the Victors had a house. Outside the house that was now mine, I said my goodbyes to Vincent and the prep team, who promised to call with the telephone that I now owned.

Kayton, Sparkle, and I entered the building, turning on lights, trying to make it seem as if I was settling in. But really, we were waiting for all the reporters to leave. It took them an hour or so to leave, but they did, and when they did, I took out the last picture I had, having buried the rest in the meadow in District 12.

"Take Sparkle to my house, okay?" I addressed Kayton, who nodded. "Dad should be there, along with Estella and Issac." Somehow, I knew that they were okay, and waiting in my old house, my true home. I couldn't live easily in this bigger, better house until Kayton de-bugged it for me. So Kayton nodded, knowing where I was going, and left with Sparkle.

I headed for the train, thinking of Rayne. I would get her first, and then . . . then I would do it. Rayne was waiting for me in the now clean, pristine room. She had all of the belongings that we had collected in a small bag, which was on her shoulder. Before we left, we took one last look around the room that held so many memories – both good and bad. It had been our home for the past few days, and I found it surprisingly hard to leave it behind.

Finally, Rayne squeezed my shoulder. "Into the future," she told me, and I nodded. It seemed to fit the situation we were in at the moment. Together, we turned and left the train, into the darkness of night. We exchanged no words – I knew what we had to do, and, somehow, I think that Rayne knew too. We didn't head towards my house, where Dad, Estella, Sparkle, Kayton, and Issac were all waiting.

We headed towards the fields.

The Peacekeeper that guarded the gate didn't ask for his usual payment in meat. When he saw me coming, he simply let me through, lowering his head slightly so that he didn't have to look in my eyes. Rayne and I strode through the careful lines of cabbages, carrots, and lettuce, and into the fruit trees. We past the lemons, and then we were in the apples. We walked until we reached the granny smith. Then I found the right row, and we journeyed across it, to the tree where I had sat on the morning of the Reaping. Then I turned to Rayne and spoke,

"Can you climb?"

She only nodded. We began to climb high into the tree, past the spot where I had sat, higher and higher, until we could go no more, and the moon and the stars were the only things above us. Then I took out the picture.

It was of Nich, smiling as she hugged her mother, brother, and father, the latter which had a kind and caring face. I knew that this was her greatest dream failed, and that all were dead but the brother. I showed Rayne, who nodded in approval and understanding. We both knew that Nich's body had been burned with no proper ritual, and it felt only right to do something. We both took the paper.

"Goodbye, Nich," Rayne said solemnly. "You were a good friend in the time I knew you." Then she looked at me.

The knot was large in my throat once more, and I could only manage to say, "I hope that you get your dream, Nich." And then Rayne and I looked at each other, and a breeze came upon us, like a blessing. We let the paper blow away from our hands, out into the world, free to fly away.

We sat there a moment, remembering not only Nich, but the others too. Then we climbed down and left the fields, walking through the dark, sleeping District, to my house. When we stood before it, I stopped.

"This is the place?" Rayne asked.

"This is the place," I answered. She only nodded, waiting for me.

I gazed upon the place where I had lived throughout my childhood. Mom had lived there, with me and Dad. She had been pregnant with another child when she fell from a tree, unbalanced, and died from a cracked skull. She should never have been in the fields at that point in her pregnancy, but she was forced to, to feed the family. Dad had never been the same since, and neither had I.

The house held those bad memories.

But it also held the memories of Mom – the good ones. Her good cooking, smiles, and hugs. The way that she would comfort me when I had a nightmare . . . the way she had made everything . . . right.

I realized now that this house was not only my past house, but also my house now. I had two homes – one for living, in the Victor's Village, with plenty of room and comforts; the other for the memories, both good and bad. I felt a slight stab of pain at the thought of leaving behind my memory house behind, but, after all, it was the people that made the home, not the object itself.

I had grown since I had left this house. I had learned a lesson from Tanner, Nich, and the others. They had taught me how to love – a feeling that I had forgotten after Mom's death. And, without realizing it, I had drawn a close circle of friends around me because of it. I knew that I would love them until the day I died. Some would live with me, like sisters and brothers. Others would just visit.

Dad.

Estella.

Issac.

Rayne.

Sparkle.

Kayton.

Kathi.

Mrs. Lawson – Edith.

Mr. Lawson.

They were my family now. Family means that the people stick together. I would stick by them. Forever. I was a new Lystra Fay Gull.

And I nodded at Rayne, so that we approached the door together. I put my hand on the handle. I knew what I would find inside. They would all be there, on the old rickety furniture, sitting together. They would all be there, waiting for me, and we would move into the home in the Victor's Village. We would be happy there – with the Lawsons and Kayton visiting.

The next year, the 25th Hunger Games, Estella might go into the Games, to continue the punishment for the song. She might die. But I would train her. I would show her good berries, nuts, and how to make a snare and throw a knife. Then she might win, and get her own house in the square.

And then, maybe, Issac would go into the games. I would have to train him too. And when Sparkle and Kathi were old enough, maybe them, too. Maybe they would die – all of them, leaving me alone with Kayton and Dad and Mr. and Mrs. Lawson. Maybe they would all win, and get their own homes in the square. Then we would have our own little bustling village. Maybe it would all work out.

Maybe.

But that didn't matter at the moment. That was a battle for the future. Right now, in the present, I just had to be happy for what I had. I opened the door, and bright, cheery light spilled onto the street and onto me and Rayne. A good omen. I then said the only thing I could think to say.

"I'm home."


	53. Epilogue

_**All right, guys, this one is mean to go off Suzanne Collin's epilogue for Mockingjay, but in 3**__**rd**__** person. You don't have to see them as connected, but you can if you want ;)**_

_**Lastly, for the song in this passage : Rue's Lullaby. Anyone who hasn't needs to go to Youtube and listen to it. Just type in Rue's Lullaby and listen to it. It's beautiful and it makes me cry :'(**_

Katniss Everdeen watches her precious children running around the meadow, laughing and playing, dancing, as the toddler tries to keep up with his sister. She glances sideways at Peeta, who is smiling at them gently. He catches her eye and smiles more, taking her hand. She sighes happily. Peeta and her were simply meant to be – their immediate connection, like they had already known each other in a past life, was what had first attracted her to him.

Their children remind her of him – not of herself, though.

She is happy now, and she just wants a peaceful life with them.

Tears sting her eyes as they begin to sing:

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

_And when the open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here you dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

The children will never know starvation or fear, as long as Katniss and Peeta have something to say about it. Fate whispers that they will have a long and happy time together.

But then something happens that fate had not planned.

Katniss sees her daughter trip over something, and hop up again, looking at something on the ground. "Mommy!" she calls.

Katniss and Peeta stand, and walk over to where their children are peering at something in the ground. It looks a bit like . . . the corner of a chest.

"What is it?"


	54. Afterword

Hey, guys.

I have often read a book that I can so relate to, so love, that I love the characters. An avid dreamer, they live on in my nighttime wanderings. The better of these books have a special place in my heart; not only do I feel like I know the characters, but the author as well. Any decent author knows that to give their story life, they must literally pour their soul into it. Many restless nights I have spent wondering about this, and if the author felt the connection too.

Now, as I finish Resistance as well as When the Snow Falls, I found the answer to be yes. I feel as though I have given you each part of me, a memory for you to carry around, if you will. I think this is why I like writing so much; I am not only myself, but also others. I carry around bits of authors, too, so that I sometimes give the appearance of many different people, in one body.

One book I felt such of was The Hunger Games. I am known to quote this book, and I have read the series countless times. On one reading, I found the word 'resistance' in book 3, Mockingjay. It was written such as this :

There's shock, confusion, resistance . . .

Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

Of course, here she was talking about Peeta, but the quote seemed to stick. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that the word 'Resistance' really fit the time before the second rebellion. And the more I thought about that, the more I realized that there was an untold story, just waiting for me to uncover.

And that's how the 24th Hunger Games was born.

It's been extremely fun, writing this book. I find myself in love with the characters, many of whom are real people brought into the book. I have enjoyed the many twists that made the story significant, and I won't lie and tell you that that was all planned out. Much of it was completely impulsive. But, as an impulsive writer, I can easily tell you that this technique does work, to some degree, after a bit of editing.

I love Resistance, and it is part of me. It is part of you now, the reader.

But it is time to move on.

When I wrote about Lystra leaving behind the games, and taking only the memories, I realized that it was time for _me_ to move on to. Lystra, in many ways, is like myself. We both know that it's time to move on. So I've decided not to write a sequel, and to leave your imaginations to continue Lystra's story.

And now, acknowledgement.

To my sister, Emily, for your continuous support, suggestions, and the ever-reoccurring question : But then what? You are, more or less, the idea for Sparkle, though she is taken from your younger form. Kathi, however, is you as you are now. Also, thanks for the reincarnation idea!

To my brother, Aiden, for telling everyone that I need quiet while I write and shooing them away.

To my mom and dad, inspiration as always, for family matters. Special thanks to Dad, who gave me Spade.

To Mack, for inspiration for Tanner, though I never told you.

To Kaitlin, my friend, who reads dedicatedly, and always is ready to lend a hand. And no, Kaitlin, in the end, I couldn't bear to kill your counterpart, Rayne. Did you like what I did instead?

To Emma and Emily S., for your wonderful characters of Totsie and Echo. I admit, at first I was skeptical about siblings in the Games, but it worked out splendidly.

To Emily B, for Lillibet. Yes, it wasn't your idea for her to be Nich's mom, but I felt she needed the extra bit.

To Ginny Weasley23, for endless support and help, and for her character Kayton, whom she allowed me to borrow ;)

To itsallstupid, for Mazie and Nich. They were amazing characters, and I happy to have worked with them.

To Ninnnna, for Elvatorix, an amazing villain.

To FullOfHunger, for endless support, and Resistance's spot in your community.

To all who messaged me (and will!).

To all who reviewed/commented (and will!).

Lastly, to all who read. May Resistance live on in your imagination.

Oh, and, of course, to all who helped achieve this.

**5,197 hits**

(and that's just on )


	55. Surprise Sequel!

Hey,

Okay, so I changed my mind. Ninnnna approached me to write a new Hunger Games fic, and since she helped me so much with Resistance, we thought that it might be fun to make the 27th Hunger Games. This time ... Estella's in the games. Yeah, I know, I said I wasn't going to make another one ... but ... yeah, forget that. I changed my mind. I do that a lot. :D

There's still three tributes left (at this point). District 1, District 2, and District 4 males. All Careers, oddly enough, and all WILL end up being important, as one of the main charecters is a Career herself. So, please, submit! We can't begin until we have them. The story is on my account, and titled (at this point) Hunger Games SYOT TRIBUTES WANTED, but it will soon being changing its name to Knives, unless Ninnnna and my own thoughts for this story change dramatically, but I don't think it will.

If all the tributes are submitted, please read anyway. There's plenty more drama to come, and this is Ninnnna and my own first debut together. Will I write more sequels in the future? Maybe. I like the idea of cowriting more with other people who helped me write Resistance, and who still read, so if you do, I'd be thankful. I don't know yet, really, but Knives will decide how I feel about making more.

So, please read Knives, the Sequel to Resistance. I'm sure you'll love it!


End file.
